The Written Things

Hi! The name's Emily. I'm 25. This is my fic blog where I post my fanfics that make me embarrassed as hell for no good reason. GA!Babe submits her amazing fics through here. Prompts: uhhh yeah I haven’t written anything lately so idk Currently majorly invested in Sk8 the Infinity, Haikyuu and Jujutsu Kaisen. Feel free to send in prompts, headcanons, and such!

[turbulentjester]

The Best Way To Practice Your Smile

Gachiakuta tickle fic! Basically what we all were imagining when we learned Rudo doesn't know how to smile. Fluffy af.

Ler! Enjin

Lee! Rudo

_________________________________________

“...So you're telling me that the fight that ended in you throwing literal shit at Zanka started because you tried to smile at him?”

Enjin asked slowly, as serious and sincere as ever.

“Yes! I wasn't trying to be an asshole, I just wanted to—”

Rudo jumps in to defend himself, only to cut himself off in confusion at the sound of…laughter?

He looks up to see a slightly hysterical looking Enjin. And Rudo's expression only makes Enjin fall into harder laughter. By the time he's mostly composed, Rudo's crossed his arms with an annoyed huff.

“Kid–”

Enjin manages, still fighting off chuckles.

“The hell kinda face did you pull at Zanka to immediately make him want to fight? He's fussy, yeah, but not usually the type to go in all violent. Was your smile seriously awkward enough to be offensive?”

“I guess,”

Rudo shrugs, frowning.

“I don't really know what I did wrong. Regto said a good smile can make people see you in a whole new light…but I'm just bad at it.”

“Aww, kid. I'm sure it can't be that bad. Show me what you're working with! Maybe I can help you out, huh?”

Enjin reassured in a way that sounded halfway patronizing and halfway genuine, ruffling Rudo's hair.

“I'll just creep you out! Or you'll laugh…”

The kid sulks, averting eye contact.

“Well…I might.”

Enjin chuckles to Rudo's bafflement.

“But at the end of the day it's just a face, twerp. Doesn't say anything about your character. That said…your dad was right in that a smile can be a powerful tool. It's a way to communicate with people. Show them how you're feeling, y'know? Send a message.”

Rudo scrunches up his brows in thought, eyes falling to his gloves.

“I didn't really think about it like that, but I guess that makes sense.”

“And, I'm just saying,”

The older man adds, leaning over towards Rudo with a lopsided grin.

“Chicks love a good smile.”

“Ugh, shut up!”

Rudo groans, gently shoving Enjin away.

“You sound just like Regto…”

“Hey, your dad was right about a lot of things kid! That's just another one of them.”

Enjin leans back in the

“And to be frank, there's plenty of people that would be pretty damn stoked to see you smile at them. I mean, can you imagine Zanka's face if he saw a real smile from you? Or Riyo?”

Enjin knows he’s laying it on thick, but the kid not being able to smile is just so depressing.

“So are you really totally sure you don’t want help from someone as handsome and charming as myself?”

Rudo scowls at his lap. He’s so tense it almost looks more like he’s trying to explode his legs with his mind.

“...Fine. But if you can’t fix my face you owe me.”

“Awesome. So, now you gotta show me the current situation. I won’t get all creeped out like Zanka, I swear.”

“Sure, whatever…”

Rudo mumbles, unconvinced. He sighs, as if resigning himself to his suffering. He looks up at Enjin and.

Oh Wow.

Rudo looks like an actual maniac. His face and neck are strained like he’s about to pop a blood vessel. If Enjin saw this expression on Rudo in the field he would assume Jabber had attacked the kid with some kind of toxin–his eyes are wide and his pupils restricted, nostrils flared, and mouth pulled up into some kind of grossly over-exaggerated, tight lipped grin. No wonder Zanka flipped his shit.

Enjin throws his head back and howls with laughter. His fucking vision is blurry and if he wasn’t sitting on a couch he’d fall over he’s laughing so hard. And when he finally recovers he sees the little twerps pissed off, pouty face and loses it again.

“Okay, okay, I’m good now, I promise I’m done.”

Enjin chuckles, still catching his breath.

“You said you wouldn’t freak out, asshole!”

Rudo gripes, actually crossing his arms as he pouts and looks away. It’s appallingly cute and ridiculous on Rudo, which Enjin is going to pretend he doesn’t notice.

“I didn’t freak out. I just laughed.”

Enjin chuckles with a shrug.

“But anyways I have good news kid–you definitely don’t have a bad smile! Because whatever face you just made at me one hundred percent does not count as one.”

“What does that even mean?”

Rudo asks, equal parts flummoxed and offended.

“It means I think you have a much nicer smile hiding in there somewhere! We just need to get it out. The biggest problem with that face you made was that you were way, way too tense. You seriously need to relax.”

The older man gestures loosely at Rudo’s tense, eternally agitated demeanor, holding back a snicker.

“Even right now you look uh, pretty intense bud.”

“Okay…uhh, how about this?”

Rudo takes a slow breath. His shoulders drop a fraction, and his brows relax slightly.

“That's…a little better. Try the smile again?”

Rudo rolls his eyes, but tries again. It's…not much better. At least his eyes are a little less bulge-y.

Enjin laughs again, shaking his head.

“Okay, no, you still look like you're gonna pop a blood vessel. C'mere.”

He goes to grab the kids shoulders, push them down into a more relaxed position. But the minute he touches the kid he jumps nearly a mile high, flinching away.

“Woah, hey, are you hurt? By now you know even if it's just a bruise, you're supposed to let us know and go to Eisha—”

Enjin is about to start a lecture when he notices something. Why is Rudo turning red? He gets annoyed at fuss over injuries, but usually doesn't get embarrassed. At least, not this much.

“I'm not hurt!”

Rudo blurts, immediately wrenching away from Enjin's hands.

“I just, uh, you surprised me! I'm fine. What were you even doing?! You shouldn't need to grab me to fix my smile!”

Enjin grins. The kid is hiding something. And he's a terrible liar. And Enjin has a certain theory.

“You saw me walk right over, Rudo. I don't know why you'd be surprised. C'mon, let me check your injury! Unless you're hiding something…?”

“I'm not hiding anything!!”

Rudo squawks defensively.

“You just—”

The kid scowls, making a sound close to a growl.

“...fine. You can look, see I'm fine, then leave me alone.”

He huffs, crossing his arms.

“Sounds good to me. Just gotta make super sure.”

Enjin says slyly. Bingo.

He takes great care in pulling up the back of Rudo's shirt, examining his back and shoulders. The whole time Rudo is stiff as a board, shoulders creeping up towards his ears.

“Hmm. Everything looks in order.”

He hums, and Rudo sighs with relief, relaxing significantly.

“Now we just have to do the internal injury check.”

“The wha—aah!”

Rudo lets out a squeaky shriek as Enjin gently pinches the back of his ribs.

“Oh, hey Rudo! I just thought of the best way to help you practice your smile!”

“Hey! You were tricking me!”

Rudo cries out in offense, trying to twist around and shove away Enjin's hands while simultaneously swallowing down the urge to giggle.

“Go away you—ahahsshole!”

“Rude. But this wouldn't bother you unless…”

He hums dramatically as if in thought, wrapping an arm around the kids front to hold him in place. The kid looks ridiculous trying to hold back laughter. Like he's sucking on a lemon.

“Rudo. You wouldn't happen to be ticklish, would you?”

“I'm n-nohot!”

Rudo cries shrilly, already squirming like a worm on a hook. Memories come rushing back of Regto doing this when Rudo was being overly agitated or stubborn, or just to be annoying. He never once successfully escaped or won any of those tickle ‘fights’.

Rudo is so totally screwed.

“Hmm, okay. Gonna be honest I'm not feeling super convinced kid.”

Enjin says before shoving a handful in Rudo's armpit and scribbling ruthlessly.

Rudo tenses and shakes with the effort of holding it all in for a few pitiful seconds. Then he bursts into scratchy, squeaky laughter. Clumsy and unpracticed, but damn.

Why does this borderline feral brat have to be so goddamn cute sometimes?

“Jeez, kid. We should've just started with this! Now lemme see the smile.”

He teases as Rudo desperately tries to hide his wobbly smile in his shoulder.

“Nononohoho! Fuhuhuck ohohoff!”

“Nah. Well, I can't see your smile, but the laugh's pretty cute. Girls will love it.”

Enjin kneads into the kids hips and he squeals, going limp and throwing his head back in squeaky cackles. His ears are turning bright red, the teasing making the tickles feel so much worse somehow.

But now, Enjin's gotten a glimpse of Rudo's face. And. Wow.

Eyes scrunched up in laughter, bright red flush on his cheeks, and the wide, toothy grin—he looks straight up adorable. It's undeniable. He looks so young, too.

Enjin shakes off his fondness because, Ew, he's not a sap.

“There it is! Now that's a smile! And it's a great one too. This is great practice for you—we should make it part of your training regiment, right? Zanka would probably love that.”

Imagining Zanka seeing this makes the kids' eyes go all wide and flustered. Rudo shakes his head frantically and goes tomato red, starting to sink to the floor either in overwhelm or hopes of an escape. Enjin just easily follows him, and now Rudo's even more fucked. Great.

“M'g—ahahahah! Gonna kihihihihill you!”

He manages to growl through laughter.

“Rude. No wonder you were trying to hide this though, seems like you're pretty damn ticklish, Rudo.”

Enjin decides to explore a little. This kid definitely needs a laugh anyway, why not satiate his curiosity? He gently claws into the kids tummy and he falls into hiccupy giggles, twitching upwards like he's being shocked.

“Ribs, hips, and your tummy is this bad? Kid, I was joking earlier but we might actually have to work on this a little. What if the raiders find out, huh? Or a trash beast gets you with it's claws!”

Okay, maybe Enjin can't help but be a little sappy. He squeezes and scribbles all over Rudo's tummy in time with his threat, making the kid shriek like a squeaky toy.

“You'd be done for! Toast!”

He bemoans dramatically. Christ, if Semiu saw him right now he'd never hear the end of it.

“Youhohou—tu–hahaha! Turdface! Gohoho die Ahah—Nonononohohoho!!!”

“Man, when are you gonna stop callin’ people turdface? It's never gonna catch on, kid. Oh, hey, does this tickle? I kinda forgot this spot.”

He lightly skitters his fingertips over the kids shoulders, where he first reacted. Rudo wasn't doing an amazing job of fighting back before, but this seems to turn him into an actual useless puddle of soft giggles.

“You're sohoho mean!”

He whines, clearly flustered and foggy-headed from all the laughter. Enjin chuckles, exploring the kids ears and neck with wiggling fingers—you know, for posterity. He scrunches up like a little turtle, grabbing at Enjin's wrists but doing fuck all to push him away.

“Hey, you wanted help smiling! Here I am, helping, and that makes me mean? That's harsh, kid. What, would you rather have Zanka? Is he cooler than me or something?”

He suddenly reaches down and squeezes a knee, laughing fondly at the resounding shriek.

“Is there anywhere you aren't ticklish? This is a security risk, kid. Do we need to have August add some extra padding to your uniform?”

“I hahahahate you!”

He giggles frantically, weakly batting at Enjin's hands, trying to curl up like a pill bug.

“Hold on kid, I gotta check something down here.”

He grabs a flailing ankle, scribbling over the kids socked feet. Rudo falls backwards, laughing heartily enough that his stomach hurts. His cheeks hurt from smiling, and he's actually tearing up.

“STOPSTOP STAHAH—HAHA—”

Enjin realizes he might be accidentally murdering the kid. So he stops. And he notices…did the kid ever actually tell him to stop before now?

Hm.

Rudo catches his breath, still giggling weakly. Curling up like he still expects a tickle attack.

“You…ss–suhuhuck…”

He manages, too exhausted to focus on his embarrassment.

“Think what you want. But hey—you're still smiling.”

Rudo perks up at that, noticing the soreness of his cheeks. He is still smiling.

“Does it—is it normal?”

He asks timidly, wary. As if he can't imagine his happy face looking normal.

“It looks great, kid. Picture perfect stuff. You learn to do that on command and I'm sure you'll get all the sweets you want.”

He sighs, ruffling the kid's hair.

Rudo flushes again, ducking his head, but still smiling. And Enjin isn't even exaggerating. He may have created a terrible weapon here.

Rudo sits there, shocked for a moment. Then he sits up with a furrowed brow and extremely serious look on his face.

“...I gotta go try that out right now.”

Of course that's what he got out of it.

“Go get ‘em, brat.”

Enjin chuckles, giving the kid a hand as he gets back on his feet.

[giggly-squiggily]

ask no. 3!

it's missing lee chuuya hours, so may i please ask for tachihara and chuuya with 💛 true love and 🧡 babydoll?

have the most wonderful weekend my dear and stay hydrated ♡♡

{Candy Heart Prompts are officially CLOSED!}

Rey Rey my dear friend! Chuuya lee hours are always welcomed here! Ooo, Tachihara! He deserves to be more a ler! I've gotcha covered!

True Love: "I could do this all day!" + Babydoll: "Keep your arms up!"

“What the hell-!” Chuuya yelped when his hat was suddenly snatched. “Tachihara! You son of a bitch- give that back!”

“No way! You want your hat back, take it from me!” The taller of the two laughed as he stretched his arm out, dodging Chuuya’s swipes and grabs. Normally he wouldn’t indulge in something so childish- but lately the shorter redhead seemed so…distracted as of late. Not down, but rather like he was mentally somewhere else.

Perhaps even mentally with someone else.

Which was all grand and good, but Tachibara was starting to miss his presence, hence his little trick. “Oh man, I could do this all day! Hey now- no cheating!”

“Screw you! I can cheat if I please!” Chuuya grumbled as he continued trying to climb the other, arm outstretched as he reached for his hat. “Give that ba-ahhack!”

“Cheaters don’t get the prize, Nakahara.” Tachibara smirked as he poked at his side, making the smaller man shoot his arm down. “Come on- keep your arms up! Don’t give up so easily!”

“Yohohohu bahahahstard! Ehehhehehehe! Cuuhuhuht thahahht oohohut! Gahahha- I’ll kihihick your ahhhahass! Ehahhahaha!” Chuuya punched at his torso with one hand as he struggled to keep the other one up, half shooting it down occasionally when Tachihara pressed into his ribs. “Quihihihit thehehe shihiht and gihihive me mhiihih hahahat bahahahck!”

“I told you to take it from me. Nothing good comes free.” He laughed as he wiggled his fingers into Chuuya’s armpits, earning an angry squeal and jumping from the other. “Ha! That was a great noise! Do that again!”

“Oohohoh fuhuhuck ohohoff! Ehahhahaa- Tahhahachihahahara-AHHAGH!” With another raging sound, Chuuya shoved him back. Or tried to- for when he put his hands on Tachihara’s chest, the other quickly swept down and dug into his armpits with both hands. “Thahhahahchihiihihihi!”

“There it is.” The taller of the two laughed as he brought Chuuya down to his knees. Literally. He followed him to the ground as he carried on scribbling into his pits, relishing the way he cackled and shrieked. “There’s the laugh I was looking for. Gave up on your hat, have we?”

Chuuya didn’t respond- laughing far too much. He reached out his hands one last time, and suddenly Tachihara couldn’t move. “Goohohot you, ahahahsshole.”

“Ah. I forgot you could do that. Say- why didn’t you activate it sooner? You could have stopped me minutes ago.” His curious remark had Chuuya blushing scarlet red, eyes wide and mouth working as he tried deciding how to respond.

Eventually he stopped glitching, pulling his returned hat over his head as he stood up with a huff. “Sh-shut up! I- I- oh forget it!” Chuuya released him, all but running away as Tachihara regained movement. “That’s not any of your business! I gotta go!”

“Pfft- bye Nakahara!” He called after him with a laugh, grinning as he watched the smaller redhead run off. Even if he didn’t get a direct answer, that reaction told him everything he needed to hear.

“Hehe, welcome back Chuuya.”

Thanks for reading!

[intheticklecloset]

Firecracker (Bungo Stray Dogs)

Primary Universe

Summary: Dazai makes Chuuya mad - like, actually mad. After apologizing, he decides to try his luck with cheering his partner up.

A/N: I realized I accidentally made Soukoku canon in my Primary Universe (I mean let's be real - they're already canon lol) so I decided to go ahead and commit to it with another installment. Enjoy!

Word Count: 1391

~~~

The door slammed so hard it was a wonder it didn’t fly off its hinges.

“I hate you!”

“Chibi—”

Chuuya whirled and jabbed a finger into Dazai’s chest. “Don’t you ‘chibi’ me! This is serious!”

Dazai frowned down at him, sagging a little. “I didn’t know you’d take it so hard.”

“You act like you gave me bad news or some shit,” Chuuya spat, “instead of treating me like a fucking dog!”

Admittedly, Dazai had to concede, it had not been his best moment.

They’d been in the park, bickering and bantering and just generally being themselves as always when Dazai accidentally got Chuuya worked up over the difference between a German Shepherd and an Australian Shepherd – “They’re two totally different breeds – how can you think they’re the same thing?!” – and the detective had made the mistake of calling him a Chihuahua.

That in itself probably wouldn’t have been so terrible, if Chuuya hadn’t gotten even more worked up, leading Dazai to start calling him a “bad dog” and withholding bits of their picnic as punishment, and…well…

Even Chuuya had decided enough was enough.

Now back in Dazai’s apartment – why Chuuya had willingly come back here after all that, the detective didn’t know – he could see that he’d really gone too far.

“Look, it was too much, all right? I admit I was a jerk back there.” The brunette tried to take his hand, but Chuuya yanked it away and stormed further into the apartment, tugging his jacket closed. A subtle sign that he was feeling insecure.

Dazai winced. He had to make this right.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, gradually shrugging out of his brown overcoat. It was the subtlety between them that made all the difference, and he knew this gesture would tell his partner he was being serious for once. “It was too much.”

“Damn right,” Chuuya grumbled, but his voice caught in the split second before he turned his back, and the brunette felt himself wilt even further.

“Chuuya,” he said softly, reaching for his shoulder this time. The redhead stiffened, but he didn’t pull away again. “Come here.”

“Fucking hate you,” Chuuya whispered, turning back around only to bury his face into Dazai’s chest.

“I know. I deserve it this time.”

“This time?”

Dazai’s lips quirked in a small smile as he gently guided the mafioso over to the couch. “Yep. Just this one.”

Once Chuuya was seated, Dazai knelt to the ground in front of him and ducked his head to try and meet his eyes. Chuuya didn’t lift his gaze, but he didn’t need to.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I went too far.” The detective rubbed his hands lovingly up and down the redhead’s thighs. “Chuuya dearest?”

Chuuya groaned. “Don’t call me that.”

“Well, if you don’t like chibi and you definitely don’t like…the other thing I called you today,” Dazai coughed, “what should I call you?”

“‘My lord’ would be a good start.”

“What about ‘my love’?” Dazai asked innocently, grinning at the pink blush coating Chuuya’s cheeks at the endearment. “My firecracker? My life, my soulmate, the very reason I breathe?”

“Fuck off.”

“Or…perhaps something a bit more personal?” The brunette smirked as he gently dug his thumbs into the meat of Chuuya’s thighs, making the smaller man gasp and spasm in surprise. “Giggles?”

“Don’t,” the redhead whimpered, clenching his fists into the couch cushions, voice wavering as his blush shifted from rose to crimson. “Dazai.”

“But I want to make you smile after making you so sad,” the detective cooed, repeating the gesture.

“Shit – I wasn’t sad, you moron; can’t you tell the difference between sad and angryehehehehe?!” Chuuya slapped a hand over his mouth, then thought better of it and tried pulling at the brunette’s wrists latched onto his sensitive spots. “You asshole, fihihirst you insult me and nohohohow you’re trying to tihihihihickle me? I swear to god!” The redhead let out a squeal when Dazai wormed his way to his inner thigh, curling all five fingers at once into the sensitive area. “I’ll nehehehehever speak to you agahahahahahahain! Dazai!”

Dazai chuckled, suddenly forcing Chuuya’s legs open before scribbling mercilessly at the sensitive insides of them.

Chuuya very nearly screamed as he arched his back, an explosion of laughter flying past his lips before he could even think about it.

“DAHAHAHAHAHAZAI STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Ooh, look at that smile! That’s what I wanted to see~” Dazai cooed, grinning openly up at his partner as he squirmed and thrashed on the cushions, unable to escape thanks to their positioning. The most he could do was try and kick his legs, try to topple over, but with the detective in the way, he wasn’t getting very far.

“FUHUHUHUHUHUHUCK OFF!! AHAHAHAHAHASSHOLE!!”

“Language,” Dazai admonished, but he was beaming from ear to ear.

Chuuya bucked and tried to escape via toppling on his side on the couch and shimmying away, but the instant his back was against the seats the detective was getting to his feet, and an embarrassing squeal of terror escaped him in the split second before Dazai was straddling him, pinning him even more.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA FUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUCK!!” the redhead screamed, tossing his head back as laughter poured out of him, blindly grasping for the detective’s wrists to push him away. “I HAHAHAHAHAHATE YOU SO MUHUHUHUHUHUCH!! THIHIHIHIHIS ISN’T FAHAHAHAHAHAIR!!”

“No fair? Whatever do you mean?” Dazai sounded confused, but Chuuya knew better. It was all an act – one he’d perfected to drive the mafioso up the wall eons ago. “All I’m doing is wiggling my fingers a little bit! You’re the one laughing like a little kid~”

“I AM NOHOHOHOHOHOHOT!!”

“It’s not my fault you’re so ticklish, chiiiiibi~”

“DOHOHOHOHON’T FUCKING SAHAHAHAHAY THAHAHAHAHAHAT!!”

Dazai hummed, suddenly going a step further and snatching up both of Chuuya’s wrists and pinning them against the redhead’s own chest, his other hand finding the spot close to another sensitive area and digging in ruthlessly.

Chuuya’s laughter fell silent, his mouth open in a quiet scream of hysterics, face turning redder by the second. He shook his head helplessly.

Dazai smirked and paused his ministrations for a moment. “Feeling better yet, Chuuya? Am I forgiven?”

“H-Hahahahahate you,” Chuuya gasped, giggles cascading out of him faster than he could keep up with. He was gasping for breath, but his eyes were still defiant. Another round then.

“Aww, you look so happy now, my darling~” The brunette teased, knowing it would drive his partner absolutely wild. “Cute little Chuuya, always so ticklish for me. But you love it, don’t you, sweetheart? Love of my life?”

The next time he paused, Chuuya sucked in a huge gulp of air and – mirthful tears in his eyes and a wobbly smile on his face – wheezed, “Fuck. You.”

Dazai shoved his trapped wrists above his head and leaned down to just inches above his face, enjoying the flash of panic in his partner’s eyes. “Forgive me?”

“Dazai—” Chuuya only managed the one word before the detective cut him off, but the tremble in it was enough.

“Last time. Do you forgive me, Chuuya?”

A whine. Lips pressed together. A shake of the head.

Dazai squeezed, and Chuuya screamed, and then the room was silent as the mafioso laughed the last of his anger away and the detective waited until the first mirthful tear had slid down his cheek before finally showing mercy, closing the distance to kiss him.

Chuuya tugged on his trapped arms, and Dazai released them without breaking their kiss, running his fingers through the mafioso’s long red hair.

“Fuck, Dazai,” the smaller man gasped, twisting to the side to try and catch his breath, hands coming to rest on his partner’s shoulders. “You’re unbelievable. Having the audacity to tickle me into forgiving you after that shit you pulled.”

Dazai kissed his neck. “You liked it. And it worked, didn’t it?”

“You can’t use this against me all the time, asshole.”

“Sure I can.”

Chuuya growled, suddenly using his ability to manipulate their respective gravities so that Dazai fell back with a yelp and the redhead landed on his lap, staring down at a now wide-eyed brunette. The mafioso smirked, settled himself, and murmured, “Who’s the one on top now, huh?”

Dazai just smirked – a clear challenge in his eyes. Chuuya felt his heartbeat quicken.

It was on.

[giggly-squiggily]

Hi friend! For the candy hearts: 💛 Sweet Heart: “Are you ticklish?” with (purely platonic) Tachihara and Chuuya? Possibly both switch? Or either or?

for a plethora of random reasons, i desperately need these two to be friends and would love to see some silly bonding with them 💛💛💛

{Candy Hearts are officially CLOSED!}

Ooo, this is so FUN! I've never written these two together before- this is so cute! :D I ended up going more Lee!Tachihara for this one, but I hope you like it! :D

CW: Swearing

Sweetheart- "Are you ticklish?"

“You have lint.” Tachihara wasn’t thinking much of it when he reached out, pinching a bit of dirt off Chuuya’s jacket. Nor did he think much of the violent reaction he gave, the way he hugged his sides and glared daggers up at him like he just tasered him. It was odd, but he figured it was just a Chuuya thing.

“Chuuya’s ticklish.” Akutagawa’s observation came out of nowhere, and suddenly it all clicked.

“Sh-Shut up! No I’m not! You don’t know me!” Chuuya barked, glaring daggers at the younger boy. Akutagawa merely shrugged before heading out, leaving them standing there. “I’m not ticklish!”

“Why’d you freak out like that, then?” He should let it go. “You acted as if I electrocuted you.”

“M-Maybe you did!” He wasn’t very menacing while blushing like that. Tachihara held his eye as he reached out, poking Chuuya again. “C-Cut that out!”

“Why react like that if it doesn’t?”

“I told you, you shocked me!”

“Are you ticklish?” Might as well be blunt. His superior puffed up with rage, his hat covering his eyes as his fists shook. He looked like a pomeranian about to go off. Tachihara snickered before holding up his hands, taking a step back.

“I won’t touch you if you don’t want me too. I’ll even forget about it-” He went to leave, but the second he turned around Chuuya’s hands were on him. “Eh-EHEHEHHEK!” Now it was his turn to squeal as his ribs were ruthlessly assaulted. “Nohohohoho, dohohohohon’t! Ahahahahah, Chuhuhuhuya!”

“If you thought I’d let you walk away knowing what you know, you are sorely mistaken.” Chuuya sounded so intimidating behind him, but his touch was gentle as it found every tickle spot along his torso. “I’m gonna make you swear to secrecy right here, right now!”

“I swheheahhahhar! I swehahahahhr, ehehehehhahahhaha!” Tachihara hit the ground hard, curling up in a weak ball as he pushed at Chuuya’s hands. “Nohohoho mohohohore! Nohooho mhoohohore, pleahahhahse!”

“Heh. Dick.” Chuuya shoved him before standing up, dusting off his legs. Tachihara gave it a second before he reached up, squeezing the nearest joint.

“Gahhaha! Oh that’s it- COME HERE!” Chuuya grabbed at him, but the other was off running, flying down the corridors of the Port Mafia hideout.

[giggly-squiggily]

Hey there!! Could you do 🩷 Be My Valentine: "I know all your weaknesses!" With ler!dazai and lee!chuuya? Since dazai has made it a point to mention how often he thinks of ways to annoy chuuya and that he knows his breathing patterns and everything about him

Please and thank you!!

Also I love them

{Candy Hearts are officially CLOSED!}

EHEHEHHHEE!!! Soukoku!! My loves! My darlings! My precious angels! :D I've gotcha covered, anon! :D I love detailed Dazai jkarjkejrkeajkrjkejk

CW: Swearing

Be My Valentine- "I know all your weaknesses!"

“I know all your weaknesses.” Dazai cooed, leaning into his fist against the island counter. “I know them like the back of my hand.”

Chuuya had heard that statement so many times now. It was almost a badge of honor for the brunette- his extensive knowledge of his boyfriend. He really should ignore him.

“You’re full of shit!” Forget that. “You don’t know a thing about me!”

“I know everything about you.” Dazai smiled. “I know you love those strawberry shortcake rolls they sell at the convenience store. I know you love dogs- I don’t see why, but you do.” Dazai twitched his nose some, a habit Chuuya found cute despite strongly disagreeing. “I know you have to sleep on the left side of the bed, and you always kick the sheets off halfway through the night cause you get too hot.

“I know you love to sing. You cry everytime you watch the greatest showman because you’re so moved by Never Enough.” Dazai slowly circled the counter, closing in on Chuuya who leaned back in stunned silence at the brunette’s detailed observations. “I know tons of things, including..that you’re ticklish.”

He grabbed Chuuya’s sides, making the shocked ginger squeak and jerk upwards. “Gah! Yohohohu son of ahahah bihihitch, yohohou plahahhaned thihihis!”

“Nah, I just wanted to tickle you. That’s another thing- I know you have the cutest laugh when I touch you here.” He squeezed his waist, making the redhead double over. “I know you can only stand me tickling your armpits for a second at most.” He did so, earning a loud cackling squeal. “And I know you love it too much to ask me to stop.”

“Ehehehheheehe! Oohohokay, ohohhokay you mahahahde yohohohour frehahhaking pohoh-OOHOHOINT!” Chuuya cried out, jumping up high enough to sit on the counter. He grabbed Dazai’s hands, making him stop as he gasped for air. “Oohohkay..ohohkay, I gehehet it.”

“You want to know the best thing though?” Dazai asked after Chuuya caught his breath. He leaned in so their foreheads were together, smiling as he met his eyes. “I know how much I love you.”

Chuuya blushed, smiling as he ducked his head. When he looked back up, he spoke without a hint of hesitation.

“I love you too.”

[amazingmsme]

Last Call for Mercy

AN: the much anticipated 600 strike fic is FINALLY here! I think we’ve all been dying to see Poseidon get his ass handed to him with some good ol’ fashioned tickle torture, & I’m here to deliver! That art by you know who (too scared to mention them in this fic) was such perfect inspiration for this fic! Grab a snack & settle in, ‘cause it’s kinda long (just over 4k)

Warning that it’s a little more intense & mean than my usual fics, but it’s Poseidon & he deserves it lmao. Kinda suggestive, but nothing more than that. (I will forever be inspired by the manwhore au) other than that, enjoy Poseidon getting what he deserves!

The wind whipped and howled, waves crashing against jagged rocks. The spray of the sea reached high, filling the air with the taste of salt. Dark clouds rolled in, quickly blocking the sun as rain poured from the sky.

Odysseus stood before Poseidon, calculating his next move. The God lay sprawled across the rocks, bruises and small cuts littering his skin from their previous fight. He looked smug, almost proud.

Odysseus couldn't keep this up forever, and he didn't want to. He was tired of fighting just to survive; it was all he'd known for the past 20 years. He was tired. So, so tired...

He had hoped Poseidon would be too. That when offered a truce: a final chance to leave the past behind, that he would take it. Of course, he could never be so lucky, nor Poseidon so reasonable.

He looked at his island one last time, coming to a decision.

"You're going to call off that storm." He spoke in a dead, flat tone. One that struck fear in the hearts of many and commanded respect.

Poseidon's triumphant smirk stretched further across his face, twisting his features with sadistic glee.

"Or what? You can't kill me," he taunted. Odysseus slowly shifted his gaze back onto him.

"Exactly."

Odysseus stalked closer, like a lone wolf closing in on a kill. Poseidon's grin faltered once he realized Odysseus was still coming towards him.

"Wait-" his eyes darted to where his trident now rested at the soldier's feet. "Wait!"

And then Odysseus smirked.

"Oh no. By the time I'm through with you, you're gonna wish I stabbed you instead," he said matter of factly.

Poseidon sneered, lurching forward threateningly. "What?"

But before he could say another word, the King of Ithica was straddling his hips, shoving his back against the rocks. He blinked in shock, at a complete loss for words.

"Cruelty comes in all shapes and sizes," Odysseus said, cracking his knuckles for emphasis. "Even ones you don't expect," he went on to crack his neck, rolling his shoulders just to drag out the anticipation.

Poseidon could've thrown him off, but he was curious where the mortal was going with this.

"Do your worst."

"I intend to."

Poseidon would swear he only screamed so loud because he was caught off guard. I mean, really, who in their right mind would try and tickle a God at a time like this? Who would even think of that?

Odysseus of Ithica, that's who. Because of course he would.

Odysseus dug into his sides, scribbling over bare skin made slick from the rain. Poseidon reacted immediately, folding in on himself with a bark of laughter as he scrambled to shove the offending hands away.

"Whahahat do you thihink you're dohohoing?" he demanded, growling through his laughter. Odysseus snorted in amusement, pinching up and down his sides.

"Thought it would be obvious," he taunted, flashing a sadistic grin. Poseidon managed to roll his eyes in annoyance, prompting Odysseus to claw at his stomach.

"Y-you ahaharrogant bastahard! I ohohorder you to-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna stop you right there," he cut him off. "You're not the one in control anymore. I am."

Poseidon leveled him with a harsh glare, determined to prove him wrong. "Like hehehell you ahare!"

Odysseus shrugged, sporting a sly, malicious grin. "Agree to disagree."

Poseidon's annoyed scoffed morphed into a snort as he kneaded his lower stomach, right above his waistline. His eyes flew wide open in embarrassment, and he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds escaping.

"That was a fun noise," he goaded, wiggling a finger in his bellybutton. "Let's hear it again, shall we?" Poseidon shook his head, ready to throw him into the ocean, but much to his dismay, a shrill screech pierced the air instead.

"Close, but I think it was more like this!" Odysseus demonstrated by squeezing his hips. Poseidon bucked and screamed through hysterical laughter. He tried his best to block the offending hands, but the King of Ithica was annoyingly fast for a mortal.

"Ohoho just shut up ahahalready!" he growled in response. That bastard had the gall to chuckle at him.

"Why should I?"

"I-I'll kihihill you!" But the force of his laughter severely negated the threat.

"Not a very convincing argument there, giggles."

"What dihihid you just cahall mehehe?" Poseidon growled through growing hysterics.

"Giggles!" he repeated proudly. To prove his point, he reached up to flutter against Poseidon's fin-like ears.

"Ihihi do nohohot giggle!" he denied through a particularly bubbly bout of giggles.

"Pft, yeah, keep telling yourself that, it won't make it true," he continued to taunt. Poseidon managed to roll his eyes. "Ohoho just shut up ahahalready!" he sassed. Odysseus arched a brow and began kneading his hips. He threw his head back in hysterics, bucking like a wild horse.

"You know what? Just for that..." Odysseus growled threateningly, trailing off. Poseidon sneered and reeled back, ready to slap him, to grab his hands, to throw him off, to do anything to stop what was happening. And then Odysseus grabbed his wrist and pinned his arm above his head.

They locked eyes and Poseidon shook his head, frantically tugging at his arm. How the hell was he so strong? He was a mortal for crying out loud! So what the fuck was going on? Then again, he supposed he wasn't putting up much of a fight, the way he was cackling and flopping around like a fish out of water.

The irony was not lost on him.

It didn't take long for Odysseus to wrestle his other arm into place. He held down both of Poseidon's wrists as he reached off to the side.

He had grabbed Poseidon's own trident, holding it high above him so the light could glint off of it perfectly. Each prong was sharpened to a point, and aimed right at him.

"Hold still, yeah? Unless you want to get stabbed," Odysseus chuckled at his own joke. Poseidon remained speechless as his brain struggled to catch up with itself. He heard a loud metal shing followed by the sound of crumbling rock, and suddenly he could move his arms.

He couldn't move his arms!

He tugged and yanked frantically, but his trident held firm. Each wrist rested in the space between prongs, but there wasn't enough room to slip free.

"That's more like it," Odysseus examined his handiwork, making sure the trident wouldn't budge.

"Are you out of your mind! Let me go!" His entire body grew tense when he felt hands rest atop his ribcage.

"You're a God, it shouldn't be that hard to escape if you really want to," he noted in a condescending tone. Poseidon glared up at him, arms straining as he tugged futilely.

"Just what are you implying?" he hissed through clenched teeth. Odysseus grinned wider.

"Oh I'm not implying anything." He curled his fingers ever so slightly, just barely pressing into the skin. Poseidon gasped and arched his back, desperately fighting off a growing smile.

"You insolehent prihihihick! Stohohop thihis at once!" he demanded through deep hysterics as Odysseus clawed at his ribs.

"That depends. You gonna call off that storm?" Odysseus asked, wiggling his fingers faster as he spoke, making it impossible for Poseidon to answer.

He shook his head and choked out, "N-nehehever!" Odysseus shrugged, not an ounce of sympathy to be found.

"In that case, I guess I'll never stop."

"You thihihink this ihis funny?" he sounded significantly less threatening than he had hoped.

"Hilarious, actually," Odysseus deadpanned, scribbling between each rib, inching closer to his gills with each passing second. Poseidon's laughter rose in pitch, and he struggled with renewed intensity. Odysseus smirked down at him.

"Aw, what's the matter? Is this a bad spot?" he asked, running his thumbs along his bottom gill.

Poseidon snorted, arms straining where they were pinned. His cheeks were flushed, long dark hair fanned out around him like rolling waves.

"Noho, please! Not there!" he begged, a forced grin splitting his face in two as he spoke.

"Oh, have you changed your mind?" Odysseus asked, cocking his head innocently. But his hands hovered above Poseidon's gills, wiggling just above the skin.

He sucked in a breath, leaning as far away as he could. "No-" he barely choked out the single word before he was lost to hysterics. Odysseus traced along the edge of each gill slowly, watching his reactions with a close eye.

Poseidon snorted and squirmed from side to side, lips twitching into a giddy, nervous smile.

"In that case, I think I'll stay right here." Poseidon's eyes widened in something akin to fear.

"Wait, don't!" he protested, arching his back with a giggly snort when Odysseus traced along both sides. He only had to use one finger to get him squirming and choking back laughter. Poseidon bit his lip, but sputtering giggles and shrieks still managed to slip out. "Stohohop!"

"Don't stop? Wasn't planning to, but whatever you say! Gotta give the God what he wants," Odysseus taunted. Poseidon shook his head, a blush quickly spreading across his cheeks.

"You knohohow dahamn well thahahat's not what I meheheant!" he argued. His laughter was uncharacteristically high pitched as he teased his gills, and Odysseus was eager to see what other noises this spot would produce.

"Mmm, actually, I don't," Odysseus corrected with a casual shrug and a shit eating grin. He jumped to the next gill, wiggling a finger just barely underneath the edge. Poseidon snorted and gasped, arching his back as he clenched his jaw. And yet, his laughter persisted.

It was much more shrill than what Odysseus was expecting, but he supposed that was because of where he was targeting. He made sure to be careful around the gills, keeping his touch light and fluttery. You'd think the lighter tickling was worse from the way he was acting. Odysseus considered the thought, watching the way the God writhed and giggled beneath him.

"Come on, it can't be that bad. I'm barely even touching you!" he noted smugly, ghosting his fingertips along his ribs and gills. Poseidon threw his head back and let out a wheezing laugh.

"Ihit's fucking ahahawful!" he screamed, sounding less angry than he intended, and more desperate than he cared to admit. But as humiliating and degrading as this all was, there was a small part of him that was grateful he wasn't enduring real torture. If the King of Ithica was crazy enough to pull a stunt like this, then there's no telling what he's capable of.

He would count his blessings where he could.

He was pulled from his spiraling thoughts when he heard Odysseus chuckle. "That's over dramatic, don't you agree?" he asked, tracing the rim of his gills at an agonizingly slow rate.

"Nooo!" Poseidon denied, but it was unsure if he was answering the question, or protesting as the tickling began to speed up. He twisted side to side, unable to dislodge the hands exploring his ribs. He snorted and kicked frantically when a finger hesitantly wiggled underneath a gill.

"FUCK, dohohon't you dahare! I will kihihill you!" Poseidon threatened through breathless snickers. Odysseus cocked his head, sporting a sinister smirk.

He leaned down, invading the God's personal space until their noses were almost touching. "I don't think you will." Poseidon sneered up at him until it was forcibly replaced by a bright smile.

"You cocky little-" his words were cut off by a shrill scream that gave way to breathless cackles. Poseidon thrashed and tugged on his arms, but his trident held firm against the rocks. Odysseus fluttered his fingers on the inside of the gills, just barely reaching in.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Odysseus taunted, cupping an ear with one hand.

"NOHOHOT THEHERE! PLEHEHEASE!" he begged, snorting and wheezing in between bouts of hysterics.

"Wow, you do have manners," Odysseus feigned surprise. He decided to cut him some slack and switch to a new spot. After all, this was pretty fun, and Odysseus didn't want him to tap out too soon. He was thoroughly enjoying every second of his well earned revenge... And the power trip he got from it wasn't half bad either.

"But I guess you deserve a break. Besides, we still have other places to explore..." he trailed off as he rested his hands on his biceps. He lightly pressed into the flesh, watching carefully as Poseidon's breath hitched. He drug his hands down until he reached his bare pits.

"There is no we," he snapped through clenched teeth.

"I don't know, I'd say we're pretty close," he said, just to get under Poseidon's skin. It seemed to work, as he scoffed and glared up at him. "What do you think?" he prompted, cocking his head to the side.

"I thihink you're fucking crahahazy," Poseidon answered as his lingering chuckles faded. Odysseus seemed to soften at those words, placing a hand over his heart as they locked eyes.

"Aw, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Poseidon rolled his eyes. "Of course you'd take that as a compliment."

"Y'know, I liked you a lot better when you can barely speak," Odysseus snarked. He didn't give the God a chance to speak before he dug back in, clawing at his exposed pits. Poseidon practically screamed, thrashing around on the rocks as he tugged and twisted his arms in a futile attempt to free himself.

"That's more like it!" Odysseus cheered, raking blunt nails down the center of his hollows. He snorted and cursed at the sharp ticklish sensation.

"Nohoho ihit's nohohot!" he argued. Odysseus arched a brow.

"You just like arguing for the sake of it, don't you?" he asked, not afraid to call him out.

"Ohoho lihike you dohohon't!" Poseidon taunted back through his giggles.

"Yeah, but you're a God. Aren't you supposed to be above shit like that?" he reasoned.

"Absolutely not!" he growled in frustration. Who was he to tell him how a God should act?

"Oh, sorry, my mistake," Odysseus faked an apology, not once slowing his movements.

"Quit beheheing such aha smart ahahass!" Poseidon demanded. He continued to thrash and kick about, the sea surrounding them churning and sloshing. The choppy waves rose and fell in time with Poseidon's bellowing voice.

"No thanks, I'm good," he shot back smugly. "Now listen up, I got a question for you." When Poseidon didn't answer, he drilled his thumbs in the center of his pits, drawing devastatingly ticklish circles.

"Whahahat?" he cried out, frustration and desperation mingling. Why couldn't this mortal just shut his fucking mouth for five minutes?

Odysseus leaned in with a sadistic grin as he asked, "So, how does it feel to be helpless?" The question caught Poseidon off guard, nearly choking on his own laughter. "How's it feel knowing you can't escape?"

"Thahat's m-mighty presumptuous ohohof you," he challenged, even as he fought off his mirth.

Odysseus snapped his head down to look at him, eyes wide in shock as a bewildered smile tugged at his lips. "Wait, can you escape?" he asked, genuinely curious now. He'd seen Poseidon move around as if he were water, and for all he knew, maybe he was. Yet his body felt solid and firm beneath his touch.

Odysseus just might be hallucinating, because he could swear Poseidon blushed at the question.

"Ehehenough! You dohohon't thihink I'm tryihihing?" he snapped defensively, tugging in his trapped arms with renewed effort. The truth of the matter was, Poseidon technically could escape if he really tried. But using his powers to slip away so easily just felt wrong. He was a God for crying out loud, he should be able to free himself with his strength alone! And at this point, he was determined to do so.

Odysseus studied him before answering. "I think you could try a little harder," he goaded, skittering his nails over the tense muscles of his arms. Poseidon's voice jumped in pitch, bordering on shrill.

"Ohoho whahat do you knohow ahahanyways?" he challenged through breathless snickers. It was meant as a rhetorical question, really. So why then, did Odysseus feel the need to answer?

"I know you're pretty damn ticklish for a God," he shot back, relishing in the way Poseidon glared at him; cheeks flushed and mouth agape in shock.

"Excuse me?" he choked out, struggling to keep his laughter contained. Even in his delirious state, he had to admire the sheer audacity.

"You're excused," Odysseus chuckled at his own joke, smirking at the way Poseidon rolled his eyes.

"You're really not ahas funny as you thihihink," he managed to complain with minimal chuckles.

Odysseus looked down at him, tilting his head to the side with mock innocence. "Really? Then why're you laughing?" He punctuated the question by fluttering his fingers behind his ears.

Poseidon shook his head, scrunching his neck as real, honest to the Gods giggles spilled past his lips.

"Oops, my mistake. Why are you giggling?" Odysseus "corrected" himself, sporting a sly grin.

"Ihihi aham nohohot!" he insisted, despite the bubbly laughter lacing his words.

"Denial looks good on you," he quipped back, tracing along the edges of his ear fins. Poseidon's eyes flew wide open as a dark blush spread across his cheeks.

"Ihihit does nohohot!" he argued, trying his best to sound intimidating. Apparently it didn't work as intended, seeing as Odysseus was cooing at him.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that," he goaded, gently pinching his ear, just to hear him shriek. Poseidon flinched away from the touch with a snort.

"Aw, you must be really ticklish here," he added with amusement. Poseidon shook his head frantically, bubbly giggles gurgling in the back of his throat, sounding as though he were laughing underwater.

"Nohoho! S-stohohop!" he pleaded. The light, teasing touch was downright maddening, and he couldn't take the relentless teasing.

"No thanks, I'm good," Odysseus casually shrugged him off. He scratched blunt nails against the thin skin of his fins, drawing out the most endearing snickers.

"Why you little- wait, dohohon't!" he protested when he saw a mischievous smirk flash across the mortal's face. But there was nothing he could do to stop him when hands latched onto his hips. He bucked like a wild horse, head thrown back as booming cackles escaped him.

"Don't what?"

"Your stupid trihihicks won't work ohon mehehe!" he yelled, thrashing from side to side in an attempt to dislodge the torturous hands squeezing his hips.

Odysseus heaved a sigh and shrugged, "Oh well, it was worth a shot." He moved down to knead his thighs, flinching at the scream that filled the air. He pulled back to cover his ears, allowing Poseidon a moment to catch his breath.

"Oho fuck you, I'm not being that loud!" he snapped defensively. Odysseus opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, the sky lit up with a web of lighting as thunder roared overhead. Poseidon gawked up at the sky, a dark blue blush spreading across his cheeks as Odysseus doubled over in laughter.

"I think your brother would beg to differ!" he cheered mockingly, poking all over his belly. Poseidon snorted and curled in on himself, but no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't escape the unbearable feeling of fingers on his skin.

"Just shut thehe fuck up! I'll kihihill both of you!" he threatened. Odysseus rolled his eyes as another clap of thunder sounded above, mocking him. This couldn't possibly get any worse.

"I really don't think you could kill anyone right now," he taunted, squeezing down his thighs until he got to his knees, and a loud snort slipped out. He stayed there for a few agonizing seconds before turning around, straddling his legs. And that could only mean one thing.

"Wait! Nohoho!" he shrieked as Odysseus scraped his blunt nails down his soles. He scrunched his feet and kicked as much as he could, but his legs were pinned fairly well, and he was weak from laughter.

"Aw, you have webbing between your toes! That's honestly pretty adorable," he taunted with a fond smile.

"Wha- no it's not!" Poseidon sputtered, fighting off a blush and doing a rather poor job. "I live in the water, what the fuck did you expect?"

"Y’know what? I don't like your tone," Odysseus said, scribbling along his arches. He let out a giggly yelp, jerking beneath the touch.

"Ohoho fuck you! Just lehehet me gohoho!"

"I'll stop whenever you want, just call off the storm!" he insisted in a snide, taunting tone.

"I-I cahahan't!" Poseidon lied as he desperately tried to think of any other way out of the mess he'd gotten himself in.

"We'll see about that," Odysseus called his bluff, glaring down at him with playful malice. He held down his ankles and grabbed his toes, stretching them back. He began furiously scribbling the webbing between his toes, and the reaction was immediate.

Poseidon kicked his trapped legs, scrunching his toes as much as he could. Bubbly giggles and shrieks escaped him as Odysseus continued to rub the thin webbing. His nose was scrunched adorably as he snorted and shook his head frantically.

"Stohohop!" he pleaded once more, but Odysseus wasn't so eager to let him off the hook. At least, not yet.

"You didn't stop when I begged you, so why should I?" he justified the prolonged cruelty. A

"Behehecause I fucking sahahay sohoho!" he ordered in between helpless snickers.

That was the last straw. Poseidon was going to cave, one way or another; Odysseus would make sure of it.

He spun around suddenly, vengeance flashing in his eyes. "You still think you're in control?" he challenged, digging into his gills without warning. Poseidon was caught off guard by the change of spots, screaming and wheezing through hysterics.

"Nohoho! Y-you mohohonster!" he wailed at the top of his lungs. He arched his back, struggling to free himself. He threw his head back in frustration, cackles flowing freely from his smiling mouth.

Odysseus scoffed at the insult and rolled his eyes. "A tickle monster, maybe," he agreed with a snide chuckle. "But didn't you say that ruthlessness is mercy upon our-"

"Ahalrihihight! Plehehease!" he begged, finally admitting defeat. As much as it pains him to say it, he just couldn’t take any more.

Odysseus wore a satisfied grin as he stared down at him. He leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Now was that so hard?” Poseidon rolled his eyes, a fading blush still dusting his cheeks.

“Incredibly so,” he deadpanned. With a heavy sigh and a wave of his trapped hand, the raging ocean calmed. “There you go, you crazy bastard,” he huffed, sounding almost fond.

“Thank you, that’s all I wanted,” Odysseus said, releasing the tension in his shoulders as he stared at the distant shore. “No hard feelings?” he asked, holding his hand out in a show of truce, forgetting for a moment that the God’s hands were still trapped.

In his deliriously giddy state, Poseidon had forgotten he was supposed to be trapped as he begrudgingly shook the mortal’s hand. He shifted form and slipped past the metal prongs on his trident, flowing into his full height as he stood on the rocks.

Odysseus was frozen in shock, looking between Poseidon and his trident.

“So you could get out the whole time?”

Poseidon’s smirk dropped as he realized the mistake he made. “Wait-” he tried to backtrack.

“And you were just letting it happen!” Odysseus added with a mocking smile, taking one last opportunity to tease him.

“Watch it, I can bring back the storm whenever I like!” he threatened, but it wasn’t nearly as scary as it should’ve been. “But I wasn’t going to resort to cheating in order to beat you,” he justified. Odysseus snorted in amusement, arching a brow skeptically.

“Cheating?” he repeated, making Poseidon scoff and drench him with a wave from behind. “Hey!”

“Using my powers to escape so easily would’ve just been cowardly and unfair,” he justified, because that’s totally the only reason…

“Yeah, cause you looked so brave giggling yourself silly,” Odysseus couldn’t help but tease, enjoying the choked sputtering the comment earned.

“Whatever, it was getting loose. I would’ve broke free any second.”

“Oh? Is that why you tapped out?” he goaded further, still riding high off of the power trip. Poseidon weighed his options, but decided it wasn’t worth it.

“You’ve wasted enough of my time already. You’re lucky I have places to be,” he said, turning towards the water without another word.

“See ya later,” Odysseus called after him with a small wave. Poseidon froze in his tracks, looking back over his shoulder to glare at him.

“No you won’t,” he corrected harshly, flashing a small grin his way before melting into the waves, leaving Odysseus alone.

“Yeah I will,” he said to himself, smiling out at the calm sea.

[myreygn]

summary: Karasu scraped his knee, Otoya sees an opportunity for mischief and Shidou inserts himself into the situation. Fun.

an: idek what this is but i'm kinda obsessed with these three and karasu gives me kuroo vibes in a way i can't explain he's so ahhhh

wordcount: 1253

taglist: @giggly-squiggily

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“Eita. Eita, no. Eita– Eita.”

Shidou was debating. On the one hand, he had finally found a comfortable position on his bed and was just about to doze off after a long day of tormenting the weak and trying to land a kick into Rin's arrogant face. On the other hand, the increasing urgency in Karasu's tone was intriguing, to say the least, and a part of him was curious about what shenanigans his roommates were getting up to.

The other, bigger part of him preferred taking a nap though.

“No, no, get– Eita. No.”

Oh, that came with a little shriek, interesting. Half-giving up the idea of napping, Shidou rolled onto his side and let out a theatrical yawn to remind them that he was in the room too so he wouldn't see anything he really didn't want to see, then he slightly peeked one eye open to catch a glimpse of what was happening.

The Assassin and the Ninja were on Karasu's bed, both fully clothed (thank heavens) with Karasu leaning back onto his hands and Otoya kneeling in front of him. They seemed to be locked in a stalemate, staring at each other like two cats about to break into a fight.

A cat fight.

Shidou bit back a giggle and watched closely how Otoya's hand moved closer to Karasu which made the older boy pull back his leg and hiss quietly. “No.”

“No what?” Shidou gave up on spying on them and sat up, stretching his limbs and smirking when his sudden intrusion on the scenario made Karasu glare at him. “What'cha doing, Hokage?”

Otoya seemed to brighten up at the nickname and lifted his hand to show Shidou a... washcloth? “Crow boy took a nose-dive on the running track.” A grin pulled on Otoya's lips as he looked back down at his fellow team captain. “A beak-dive.”

Shidou snorted and Karasu rolled his eyes. “Oh, ha ha.”

“I thought it was amusing.”

“Well, you're a dumbass,” Karasu snapped at Shidou and opened his mouth to immediately let another insult follow, but instead a startled yelp left his lips and his knee jerked. “Eita!”

Finally won over by his curiosity, Shidou got up from his bed and made his way over to see what Otoya was doing. Just moving the washcloth over the scrape on Karasu's knee, nothing major. Hm. “Are you being a wimp, Karasu?”

Oh, if looks could kill.

“I've been trying to clean it for like ten minutes, but he wouldn't let me,” Otoya explained as he carefully cleaned the injury and proceeded to carefully press it against Karasu's knee to cool the skin around the scrape.

Shidou glanced down at the Assassin, his brows furrowed slightly. “Why not?” Something told him that there was more to this story.

“I don't trust him,” Karasu snarled, but Shidou could see his tension ease at Otoya's gentle treatment of his ouchie. He could understand the sentiment of not wanting to trust the Ninja, but so far he seemed to be doing a good job. Karasu had probably just gotten his guard up a little too high over the past few days – a natural occurrence when spending time around Shidou, or so he had been told – and was now freaking out over nothing.

Just as he came to that conclusion, Karasu finally relaxed and closed his eyes for a brief moment. That was all it took for a mischievous spark to appear in Otoya's eyes and his movements to pause. Then everything happened very quickly and all Shidou could do was stand there and admit to himself that they had been fooled.

“Shit– Eheitahahah!”

Oh well, at least he wasn't the one paying for their mutual mistake.

Mildly impressed, he eyed Otoya's grip on Karasu's ankle, as strong as it had been quick, and the diabolical gleam in his eyes as he slowly dragged the washcloth over the back of Karasu's stretched out knee. Impeccable technique, he had to admit.

“Ihihi'll kihihihill yohou!”

Karasu seemed less impressed. Within the blink of an eye he had gone from grumpy and wary to flopping around on the mattress like a fish, angry giggles pouring from his mouth and his leg uselessly twitching in Otoya's grip. Shidou gave himself a moment to take in the unusual sight, then he slipped back into his element and threw himself onto the bed next to Karasu, smirking down at him.

“Oi oi, what a charming laugh you have.” He looked down at Otoya, then back at Karasu and teasingly flicked against his forehead. “He gotcha good, you gotta admit.”

“Shuhuhut uhuhuhup!” Karasu tried to glare at Shidou, but the frantic giggles robbed him of quite some of his usual intensity, if not to say all of it. “Fahahah– dohohon't tohohouch mehehe!”

“Ah, but you're usually so touchy.” Shidou chuckled, deciding not to flick Karasu's forehead again and poking his exposed armpit instead. Oh, that got him a squeak. “If I just think about all the times you put your nasty arms in my way when I was trying to score... you might deserve this after all. Maybe you wouldn't be in this predicament now if you had been less annyoing, ever thought about that?”

“Oh no, he would still be here even if he had been less annoying,” Otoya spoke up, still dragging the washcloth over the back of Karasu's knee with a contempt smirk and making the dark haired boy thrash and cackle. “I'm just doing this for fun.”

“Fuhuhuhuck yohohou!”

“Hmmno.”

“Ihihihi'll nehehever pahahahass toho yohou agahahahahain!”

Otoya grinned at Shidou and readjusted his grip on Karasu's ankle. “Wanna see my secret Ninja technique?”

“Do I.”

Even before the washcloth made contact with Karasu's bare sole, Shidou knew that this was going to be good. Marvelous even. And the shriek it dragged from Karasu only proved him right.

“SHIHIHIHIHIT, GEHEHEHEHET OHOHOHOFF!”

Shidou grabbed the second ankle and pinned down the previously free leg that had been trying to kick Otoya in the shin. “Oh no, you won't.” He chuckled menacingly when the washcloth turned its attention to this sole as well, getting more of those sweet sounds out of Karasu. “Caw for us, crow boy.”

“IHIHI HAHAHAHATE YOHOHOHOU!”

“Really? That smile says otherwise.”

The flush on Karasu's face was a downright work of art, but from the way his laugh went nearly silent, Shidou knew that they were nearing the end of their fun and Otoya seemed to come to the same conclusion, discarding the washcloth and releasing his hold on Karasu's ankle, allowing his friend to curl up and catch his breath.

“Yohou... you guys suhuhuck...”

“Oh, boo, is this the thanks we get for taking care of your scrape?”

Otoya didn't seem to mind that Shidou included himself into what had just happened as if him and Otoya had been planning the attack on Karasu all along and the annoyance on their victim's face only made Shidou feel better about it.

“You didn't take care of anything you piece of– ”

“Oh, come on,” Otoya cut him off. “He's fun.”

“He's an asshole.”

“Both correct.” Shidou blew Karasu a kiss and gladly took the high five Otoya was offering him, then he got up and stretched his arms above his head. “If you'll excuse me now, I have to get my beauty sleep.”

[amazingmsme]

Ruthlessness in Other Ways

AN: day 14, the day we’ve all been waiting for!!! I wanna give a huge thanks to 😈 anon for helping with the title, it couldn’t be more perfect! Poseidon really puts Odysseus through the wringer with this one! I let myself get mean with it, lol. Took a lot of inspiration from the manwhore au, so that explains the sexual tension. Slight warnings in the beginning for mild violence & descriptions of drowning. Other than that, there’s nothing you need to look out for. Hope y’all enjoy, this one was super fun & flustering! Sorry this was later than I planned, I’ve been super busy!

Odysseus was thrown into the water from the force of the lightning bolt, and he plunged deep below the surface with splinters and debris from his ship. He sank deeper and deeper until Odysseus regained consciousness. He opened his eyes and gasped for air, gulping in sea water. He  desperately tried to preserve what air remained in his lungs. He frantically swam towards the surface, but felt himself sinking further. He was caught in a rip current, and he was yanked further below the waves.

His lungs ached, his vision was fading, he was starting to panic as he fought to get to the surface. His head was throbbing, ears popping, lungs about to burst, and finally, they filled with water.

The last thing he saw was dark shadow swimming towards him. It can't end like this...

~~~

Odysseus awoke with a splitting headache, but he had no time to take in his surroundings before he was coughing up sea water. He wretched and gasped for breath, only then realizing he could only lean forward so far. He felt stone pressed against his back, his arms chained to the wall.

"That's it, hack it up," a cold voice spoke from behind, slapping an even colder hand on his back. Odysseus went stiff, eyes shooting wide open.

"No..."

A deep, sly chuckle sounded too close to his ear for comfort.

"Hello again."

Poseidon grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back to look him in the eye. He smiled at the pained hiss that escaped his victim, relishing in the fear etched on his face.

"Poseidon! I-" he was cut off with a sharp slap across the face.

"I'm not interested in conversation. I'd much rather make you beg for mercy," he growled, grabbing Odysseus by the jaw.

"Really? I thought mercy wasn't exactly your thing," Odysseus tried to remain defiant and cocky, refusing to give the God what he wants. He should've known better.

"I never said I'd show you any," he sneered, allowing himself to get closer. He grazed his claws over his throat as he let go of his jaw, brushing off the shudder and twitch as fear. What else would it be?

"Please, if this is about your son-"

"You think I still care about that?" Poseidon let out a low, snide chuckle. 

"What?"

"I just don't like you, Odysseus. And your suffering is just so fun to watch," he spoke casually, but wore a downright sinister grin. He pressed his trident against his chest, not enough to pierce his skin, but the threat was there. He drug the weapon down his body ever so slowly, slightly digging into the soft flesh.

He jerked back with a gasp, sucking in his stomach as he turned away, closing his eyes for good measure. Poseidon yanked him around by the hair once more.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," he ordered. Odysseus forced his eyes open, meeting the God's piercing gaze. His eyes were full of fear and uncertainty, yet he had the gall to smile at him.

He gripped his hair tighter, pulling at the roots until he heard him yelp in pain.

"Wanna tell me what's so funny?" he asked in a low, threatening tone. Odysseus shook his head frantically.

"N-nothing!" he stammered, pressing himself against the wall of the cave.

"Then wipe that fucking smirk off your face before I slap it off," he threatened. Before Odysseus had the chance to answer, a swift backhand was delivered to his cheek. He could swear the webbing between his fingers made it sting even more.

"It would be so easy to just split you open," Poseidon mused, drawing a line down the center of his belly with the blunt tips of the trident. He really needed to learn how to sharpen his weapons better, because all Odysseus could focus on was how bad it tickled.

"Just get on with it then," Odysseus sighed, admitting defeat, squirming against the wall. Regardless of how blunt it was, it was still sharp enough to get the job done.

"No. You don't get the peace of a quick death," Poseidon said, pulling the trident back.

"Lucky me," he mumbled to himself. Poseidon sneered and lurched forward, metal clanging on the ground as he tossed the weapon aside. He slammed Odysseus against the wall, one hand gripping the base of his jaw while the other held him back by the shoulder.

"What was that?" he growled in his ear, warm breath ghosting over his skin. Odysseus gasped and tried to twist away, scrunching his neck. Poseidon's thumb rested on the edge of his armpit from where he gripped his shoulder.

Odysseus bit his lip and tried to turn away, but the hand on his jaw didn't allow it. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his breath came out in quick huffs through his nose. His arms were straining at their restraints as he tried to lean away, but... not in the way Poseidon expected.

He studied his expression, ready to scold him once more, until he noticed where his hand was.

Oh. Ooooh.

He looked back at his captive, a sadistic smile stretching across his face. He moved his hand down, raking his claws over his ribs, noticing the way Odysseus struggled to mask his reactions and pass off his smile as a pained grimace.

Things just got a lot more interesting.

Odysseus felt a chill run up his spine when he heard a slow, deep chuckle.

"Oh this is rich," he heard him say, and the hand around his throat forced him to look up. There was a sick, gleeful kind of curiosity shining in the God's eyes that hadn't been there before.

"What do you want from me?" he managed to ask. Poseidon only smirked.

"At first, I thought I wanted to hurt you. I had every intention of killing you slowly and leaving you to drown. But now, I'm second guessing myself," he said, leaning into the captain's personal space. Odysseus tried to lean away as much as he could.

"W-why the change of heart?"

Poseidon laughed, a contorted, garbled sound. "Humiliation is a far better punishment for you. Wouldn't you agree?"

"What?" Odysseus shook his head, brows knit together in confusion. No. There was no way he meant that.

"Tell me, king of Ithica. You wouldn't happen to be ticklish, would you?" he asked, curling his fingers ever so slightly so they dug into his ribs.

Odysseus choked on a gasp, jerking away from the touch as a blush quickly spread across his cheeks.

"And don't lie to a God," Poseidon added. He relished in the mix of fear, confusion and embarrassment on his face as he shook his head.

"Don't, please! Why that?" Odysseus stammered, pressing himself against the wall and staring him up and down. He barked out a quick laugh when both hands grabbed his ribcage before clamping his mouth shut to prevent anymore unwanted sounds from escaping.

"Because someone needs to break that fragile little ego of yours, and I look forward to watching you scream and writhe," he taunted as he began tapping his fingers against his ribs.

His breath hitched in his chest, and he instinctively twitched away. Poseidon smirked and scratched between each bone with sharp claws, and the first muffled giggles started to slip out. Odysseus tried to hold in his laughter as long as he could, but it was a futile effort.

"Trying to tough it out? Go ahead, it just makes it all the more fun when you finally break." Poseidon raked his claws up and down his ribs relentlessly, pausing to trace and scratch the spades in between. Odysseus yelped, twisting side to side in his bonds. His breath was labored from the effort it took to maintain composure, and he had to bite down on his lip to stop the giggles from spilling out. Poseidon wrapped both hands around his entire ribcage and dug in with vibrating claws. The reaction was instant.

Odysseus finally cracked with a snort, releasing all the laughter that had been trapped in his chest. It was a rich, full sound, rare to those even among his inner circle, but now it took on a more desperate tone. He leaned away as far as the chains would allow, twisting uselessly.

"Really? That's all it took? I was honestly hoping you'd struggle a little longer," he teased in a purring, almost sultry tone. "But you mortals are so fragile, so sensitive," he slowly walked his fingers up his torso like they were climbing stairs. Odysseus shook his head as breathless giggled poured freely. "So easy to break."

Poseidon's hands jumped up to drill in his exposed hollows, kneading the muscles and scratching delicate skin. He threw his head back, cackling loudly as he desperately yanked on his arms.

"NOHOHO! J-just gohoho bahack to hitting mehehe!" Odysseus bargained, trying to appeal to his violent nature. Poseidon hummed in thought.

"I don't think so. Pain is an old friend of yours, isn't she? You've come to expect it around every turn. At some point, pain stops being effective at getting the point across," his voice was cold and emotionless, yet the sadistic glimmer in his eyes was proof that he was enjoying every second of this. He rubbed circles with his thumbs in the center of his underarms, sending Odysseus into wild hysterics. The chains rattled as he thrashed around, tugging on his arms with all the strength he had. His mouth hung open in a wide smile, nose scrunching as he snorted. His laughter was loud and deep, with a beautifully frantic undertone.

"But I doubt you were expecting this," to emphasize his point, he scratched up and down his exposed hollows, lightening his touch ever so slightly, but compensating by speeding up. Odysseus threw his head back with a giggly shriek, arching his back and jerking away.

"Confusion and utter humiliation are rather powerful tools of persuasion, wouldn't you agree?" he purred in his ear, making Odysseus squeal and scrunch his neck. Poseidon chuckled at the sound, reaching a hand up to flutter under his chin.

"N-nohoho!" Odysseus giggled and shook his head, slamming his chin down for protection. Poseidon smirked and cocked his head.

"Oh? You don't agree?" he asked as he began tracing up and down the length of his arms, from his pits all the way to his wrists. He watched the way Odysseus giggled and twitched as he lightly grazed the skin. His arms shook, muscles flexing as gentle fingers passed over. "It's not eating you alive that I'm doing this to you? That you're crumbling at the hands of a God, able to do nothing but laugh and scream? Your thoughts aren't racing, wondering why I'm not ripping you to shreds?" he taunted directly in his ear, lips ghosting over the skin.

Odysseus hated how true his words were. He clenched his jaw and growled through his laughter, "Shut uhup! Just shuhut uhuhup!"

"You think you're in any position to make demands of a God?" Poseidon questioned, and even his breath tickled.

"NO! Nohoho, I wahasn't-" he cut himself off with a scream that morphed into helpless laughter when the hands moved down to knead at his belly and sides. He twisted side to side, trying to hide his face behind a restrained arm. His hair was a mess, wet and matted to his forehead. Rosy cheeks were carved with dimples, and crows feet wrinkled at the corners of his eyes. He almost looked cute, in an endearing, pathetic sort of way.

"Let me make one thing clear: I'm in control," he taunted, gripping Odysseus by the hips roughly. He yelped and instinctively bucked his hips to get away, snorting and doubling over as much as he could when he gave another squeeze.

Poseidon arched a brow and smirked down at him. "What's wrong, did I find a bad spot?" he taunted, squeezing up his sides and drilling his thumbs in the divots of his hips.

"Nohoho plehease!" he shrieked and writhed in his binding, unable to escape the relentless touch.

"What did I say about lying?" Poseidon chuckled sadistically at his own joke.

"Plehehease, just lehehet me gohoho! Ihihi'm sorRYYYY!" His voice jumped an octave when sharp claws pricked and tapped against his hips. Full belly laughs gave way to shrill giggles, and the sounds he was making amused Poseidon to no end.

"Awww, what a sweet sentiment. Almost as sweet as those giggles of yours," he teased with a sly smirk, sharp teeth peaking out from under his lip. Of course he wasn't actually complimenting him, he only said it to get under his skin. "Too bad I don't care."

Odysseus flushed and stared at him in shock. "I-I dohohon't giggle!" he tried to sound defiant, but the giggles pouring from his mouth negated the effect.

"Denial's a good look on you. Next, I bet you'll try and say you're not ticklish," Poseidon snickered, reaching a hand up to tease his neck and ears. Odysseus snorted and scrunched his shoulders.

"Nohoho!" he tried to deny, shrieking when a claw traced the shell of his ear. "Stohohop! Plehehease, juhust stohohop!" he pleaded, shaking his head.

"That's right, keep begging. Not that it'll help," he let out a raspy chuckle, cupping his face with both hands. Odysseus was forced to look up at Poseidon as he squirmed helplessly, giggling himself silly as he scribbled around his ears and neck. No matter which way he twisted, the tickling never stopped.

"You humans are so sensitive; so fun to toy with," the God mused as his hands trailed back down his body. "So easy to break," he squeezed his hips again just to watch him buck and snort. "And yet, you all think you can win."

"Ihihi'm sohohohorry! I-it wohohon't hahappen again, I swehehear!" Odysseus bargained futilely.

"Oh, but it will. That's just the way it works," Poseidon explained, digging his claws into his thighs. Odysseus gasped and jerked beneath the threatening touch. "You'll get yourself into trouble and try to work your way around it, but you'll always lose." He slowly scratched down strong thighs, earning a ticklish scream and a violent twitch.

"Fuck! Noho, you cahahan't! N-not thehehere!" he begged through growing hysterics. His words only made Poseidon more curious as he began squeezing up and down his legs.

Odysseus squealed and jumped away from the touch, pressing against the wall of the cave and kicking out futilely. Poseidon looked him up and down with a hungry, scrutinizing gaze, evil smirk twisting into a sharp, dangerous smile.

"Awww, what's the matter? Too ticklish here?" he asked, raking his claws down the captain's thighs as he knelt before him. That alone drew out a panicked bark of laughter as he twitched away.

"N-no! Ihihi mehean- shihihit, stohohop!" he cut himself off with a snort as sharp claws delicately traced his inner thighs. Breathy giggles became hysterical laughter as the soft scribbling got faster and added more pressure. He threw his head back, practically dancing in place as he tried to escape the unending torture.

"Just look at you, barely able to speak. How pathetic," he taunted, scratching higher up his legs, enjoying the way his voice changed pitched. He pinched back down the muscle, drawing out a few giggly snorts. Poseidon couldn't help but comment on it.

"Those are some pretty funny noises you're making. I think I'll stay right here," he kneaded deep into his thighs, and Odysseus practically screamed.

"NOHOHO PLEHEHEASE! IHIHI'M SOHOHORRYYYY!" he threw his head back, cackling wildly. His legs gave out, but he was still held upright by his chains. His legs kicked and writhed in Poseidon's grip, his sanity slipping away with each passing second.

"Good," he growled, raking his nails down his inner thighs just to make his squeal. "But I'm not stopping any time soon. By all means, whine and beg, but don't expect it to help much." From this position, his bare, squirming stomach was right in front of his face. He grabbed Odysseus from behind, making sure he couldn't move away before biting his hip.

He let out a piercing shriek, followed quickly by frantic hysterics. He writhed and twisted in his hold, tugging on his arms with all his might. His vision went blurry as tears streamed down his cheeks, and he closed his eyes so he didn't have to watch his own torment.

Poseidon grazed his teeth across delicate skin, stretched taught over the bone. He nipped and nibbled at his hips, allowing his tongue to flick and trace the contours of his waist. That really seemed to drive him mad, so he continued nibbling along his hips and belly while his hands returned to his thighs.

Odysseus wailed in ticklish agony, babbling incoherently for mercy. He couldn't form a single coherent thought, legs trembling from the relentless onslaught.

"Ohoho shihihit- NOHOHO! FUCK- NOHOT THAHAHAT!" his arms strained to hold him up, leaning against the wall for support. Poseidon drilled circles where his hips and legs met, scribbling along the backs of his thighs. His back arched and he tried to jerk away, only for his leg to be trapped under a strong arm.

"Why, is this a bad spot?" he cooed, scribbling behind his knee all the way up the back of his thigh. His muscles quivered with every pinch and stroke, and his voice periodically cut out.

Poseidon slowed his touches to give him the chance to breathe. Odysseus gasped for air between helpless giggles, legs writhing in his grip as his claws scribbled against the sensitive skin. He hiccuped and snorted when he'd zero in on a particularly sensitive spot.

"I asked you a question," he growled, going back to clawing mercilessly, just to remind him how much worse it could be. Odysseus screamed and thrashed.

"YEHEHES OHOHOKAHAHAY? STOHOHOP!"

Poseidon smirked as he slowed back down, focusing on his right leg. Odysseus whined and snickered as the feather light touches clouded his brain. It was almost worse than when he just dug in. At least then his voice didn't sound so shrill and broken.

"Plehehe- staha- stohohohop! I-I cahahan't!" he pleaded through breathless giggles.

"You humans are hilariously pathetic. So weak and soft, unable to hold out against even the softest of touches," he taunted. Odysseus was limp and pliable, yet still struggled, providing a map of his most ticklish spots.

He continued the light scribbling, spidering his way to the tops of his knees. Odysseus snorted and kicked, laughter jumping up an octave. Poseidon smirked, meeting his eyes to flash him a smug wink before digging in. He clawed ruthlessly at his knees and the tops of his thighs, relishing in the resulting shriek.

He leaned in to whisper in a deep, threatening tone, "I hope you didn't think we were done. There's so many places I haven't even tried. And I plan on keeping you here as long as I like."

"What? N-nohoho y-you cahahan't just do thahat!" Odysseus insisted, eyes wide with fear as he frantically shook his head.

"Actually, I can. And there's nothing you can do about it." He grabbed his feet, wiggling his fingers dangerously close to the soles. "Nothing but laugh."

Odysseus was once again sent spiraling into hysterics, forced to accept his fate.

[guineapigwrites]

How're ya doing? I just read your newest fic and I am BAWLING- IT WAS SO LOVELYYYYY! I don't usually request, but this is a special case XD.

If you want, can you write a revenge fic with lee! Dazai and ler! Fyodor? The anon who originally requested 'You Make Me Weak.' requested it with a Fyodor hc so I think imma do the same. I have a headcanon that Dazai adores being tickled due to the playful nature of it, however, rough tickles don't work on him. He's only affected by gentle tickles like tracing, gentle scratching, poking etc. Also, because he loves it, he never begs for it to stop, his body has no limit. The ONLY thing that can break him is anticipation. You know how Dazai never cracks under pressure? Yeah, I don't think that's the case for tickles. I think anticipation gets him the worst. Just touch one of his tickle spots and threaten him and he'll be a giggly mess until you start actually tickling him. Fyodor's evil, he WILL use this to his advantage and will taunt Dazai about it too because what kind of genius mastermind explodes into a ball of giggles when he hasn't even been touched yet?

I know you just wrote for them, so feel free to decline, I completely understand! Stay safe, buddyyyy!

hello anon! thank you for your request!! i apologize for how long this took- i ended up rewriting it three times because i wasn't satisfied with how it turned out. so without further ado i present your request!

you’ll fall at my hand.

pairings: lee!Dazai, ler!Fyodor

word count: 4.1k.

warnings: swearing. this is a tickle fic! if that's not your cup of tea, then just scroll or block me<3

a/n: i tried to write this as a standalone and i'm decently sure that it can be read as a standalone, but it is a sequel to this!

(did i accidentally fluster myself like 10 times while editing and writing this? yes. yes i did.)

~

Dazai doesn’t remember exactly how he got there. But what he did know was that Fyodor had been silently reading—on Dazai's bed—in the prison cell that they shared for the past ten minutes. 

He hadn’t brought it up, the only tell being a strange look and a quirk of his eyebrow, but Fyodor was quiet and otherwise ignorable, so he kept his mouth shut. Perhaps he wasn't willing to give his fellow prodigy any form of satisfaction. Was Fyodor trying to bother Dazai? Or was he just as bored as Dazai was?

Still, more questions Dazai could only consider the answers to.

Also considering what happened yesterday, any form of closeness with Fyodor, whom he'd previously tickled senseless, was a bit nerve-wracking. Just a tad.

He catches himself stealing glances at Fyodor as he tries to keep his concentration on his book, but little by little his attention span dwindles, till he’s so bored he's flipping the pages of his book back and forth, just to hear the sounds of the paper. 

Flip. Flip again. Flip. Flip again. Ruffle the papers. Smack the book together-

“Have you no respect for those around you?”

Dazai looks up, and an unamused Fyodor Dostoevsky stared directly at him.

“Hey, your hearing's pretty good, Fyo,” Dazai giggles then sighs, dipping forwards. “Did you forget? You’re kinda on my bed. I can do what I want.”

“Is that so?” Fyodor snaps his book shut, and the resounding echo hollows the silence. “You seemed to have no problem doing what you wanted on my bed.”

Of course, Fyodor could hold a petty grudge like that, Dazai's mind antagonizes, itching to poke fun at him again. And, ignoring the potential consequences, Dazai rolls his eyes. “You’re still going on about that?”

Fyodor's eyes slowly narrow, and then he's leaning back against his hands, mattress creaking with each movement. "But if it had been me who'd gotten you first, you would've had all the right in the world to complain."

"You're absolutely right!" Dazai tilts his head at the sarcasm, a sickly-sweet smile on his face. He knows just how much that pisses Fyodor off. "Now... can you get off of my bed, Fyodor?"

Unamused, Fyodor stares, and his posture stiffens—but Dazai tries not to let it affect him. Something in the brunette's torso jolts at the particular look in the Russian's eyes, but he ignores it. 

"I'd suggest not antagonizing me, Dazai." 

"Or what? Please, Fyodor," Dazai giggles again, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. "You're not strong enough to pin me down."

The bed creaks. Suddenly, Fyodor's much closer to Dazai than he was a few seconds ago, and Dazai tries to hide his shock by leaning back.

"You're still using that as your bluff? If I knew better..." Fyodor muses, every movement slow and controlled. "I'd say you actually want me to find out by tickling you, don't you?"

"Eh??" Dazai squeaks, shaking his head, but in the moment he was distracted, Fyodor pounces. His movements just sang with the intention of revenge.

Oh, oh no. This could be very bad.

Dazai shrieks as he tries to kick Fyodor off of him, but with the lithe of a ballerina, Fyodor avoids the sharp motions, grabs Dazai's wrists, and somehow shoves his hands through the metal of the bedpost.

"Fyodor- What the hell??" Dazai hisses as his wrists bang against the makeshift bonds, cold metal sending a small shiver up his spine. And in a millisecond, he quickly realizes that with Fyodor on top of him, he couldn't arch his back enough to free himself. "Get me out!! Get off!"

"I said the same thing to you, I remember..." Fyodor speaks, hand curling to rest just on top of Dazai's midriff. "And yet you showed no mercy."

"You- You liked it! That's different, Fyodor, I swear-" Dazai seethes, desperately writhing around.

An amused laugh tumbles out of Fyodor's throat, the sound melodic, airy, and utterly evil. "You never know when to stop making things worse for yourself, Dazai."

And Dazai realizes how screwed he was, and curses the fact that Fyodor always managed to bend the odds in his favor. The color in his face drains to a pale white, and then the blood rushes back, painting him crimson.

"Oh, it seems I'm affecting you already, Dazai," Fyodor drawls lazily. Offended, Dazai growls, still trying to buck Fyodor off of him. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"But revenge is in order, is it not?" Fyodor smirks, and without warning he drags his claw-shaped hand up Dazai's stomach.

The sensation shoots through Dazai's nerves, and suddenly he's on the edge of breaking—and he did not want to break this early.

Fyodor so clearly relishes the embarrassed shriek that he drags from Dazai, and chuckles at the fluster that follows. "What, where'd your bite go, Dazai? Cat got your tongue?"

"Fuck off," Dazai whines while fist-fighting a smile, searching for some semblance of his composure—but the cruel Fyodor tsks at him, demeanor cold and sordid, and Dazai's grimace turns to a grin and spreads across his face.

He'd forgotten how mean Fyodor could really be, how candid his teases could get. And Dazai had been dousing him with gasoline, dancing carelessly with a match.

"How rude of you." Fyodor sighs, all ten fingertips suddenly jolting to life on Dazai's torso. Considerately humming, he teases at the skin, his intelligent mind piecing together where Dazai was most sensitive.

He does this in just a few seconds. It was all too easy to forget Fyodor's intelligence—at least, for someone like Dazai.

And then Dazai's squirming helplessly beneath Fyodor's touches, broken gasps escaping his lips. God, he's so close to laughing- he can't- he has to but he can't. And he flops like a fish but tries to keep his mouth shut. "Pl- Please!!"

"Please what? Please... keep tickling you? Well, if you insist," Fyodor manages a shrug through his traces, and his use of the word has Dazai's stomach doing cartwheels. Eyebrows furrowing, Dazai opens his mouth to protest, and then Fyodor drags his teasing touches up to Dazai's neck.

It went completely downhill from there as the sensation tripled. His strangled laughter echoes through the room. 

"No- Nohohoho, Fyodohohohor!!" Dazai shatters instantly, scrunching back and forth as Fyodor's soft fingertips flutter against the sensitive tendons. And the gentle ticklish sensations shoot straight up to his head, enveloping his thoughts in a feathery warmth.

Now this was where Dazai had the upper hand, embarrassing as it was... 

He didn't mind this at all. And as he desperately tries to keep up affairs, he catches himself genuinely hoping that Fyodor would keep this up for a long while. 

It was embarrassing. Yes, Dazai knew.

Unfortunately, Fyodor quirks an eyebrow, observant as ever. And he traces the skin of his collarbone before pinching at it in short bursts. "You're not fighting me anymore, Dazai." 

A short gasp mingling with his laughter, Dazai tries in vain to kick Fyodor off, again, but he only smacks his wrists against the metal and hisses out a curse between giggles. In between all that, Fyodor doesn't stop.

"Yohohou're sohoho mehehean!!!" Dazai screeches, shaking his head back and forth.

"How cute," Fyodor scoffs with a blank roll of his eyes, then he tilts his head. Dazai can't even look at him to see what he was planning, lost in his giggly mirth. "Well, now I wonder..."

Fyodor withdraws his hands for a split second, but before Dazai finds it in himself to enjoy the break, his fingers twitch and abruptly he's drilling into Dazai's underarms.

Out of habit, Dazai arches his back—

But then he gasps in a relieved breath, for the first time devoid of any laughter at all. Wow, wow, he just learned something new about himself. 

Fyodor's eyes narrow and experimentally he vibrates his fingertips harshly across the whole stretch of skin, but Dazai sighs mockingly, feeling close to nothing.

"Interesting," The Russian muses, and despite his assumed annoyance, he smirks. Dazai rolls his eyes. And Fyodor gives Dazai a look that could mean one of two things—I've figured you out, or, you're done for. "What a contrast."

"Are you done yet, Fyodor?" Dazai growls, doing his best to act unaffected—but it wasn't working, thanks to the glowing blush on his face. "Haven't you had enough-"

"No," Fyodor sighs slowly, and suddenly he seems much more sadistic than he did a second ago. He considers Dazai like a spider its prey, and Dazai swallows, tingly anticipation shooting up his spine. 

"Please?" Dazai whispers, attempting puppy-dog eyes, though he wasn't sure what he was asking for.

The bed creaks again. Fyodor adjusts where he sat to put his arms on opposite sides of Dazai's head and lean forwards. Dazai breathes in a slow gasp, Fyodor shading him from the light. "What do you take me for, Dazai?" The Russian's words hit slowly. "Cruel?"

"Yes, actually," Dazai's eyes twitch, and he feels a wobbly smile tug at his lips. A dangerous response... But was he not known for his boldness?

And Fyodor, taking the snark better than Dazai would've expected, tsks down at him. "You and I are both aware of our shared inability to be truly honest, Dazai. It would be much, much easier if we... found someone competent with the ability to read us like we can others."

Dazai nods, immediately intrigued, but grateful for the brief moment to catch his breath. "Never thought I'd agree with you." And he fidgets with the metal bed frame. Where was Fyodor going with that??

"So then I say this." Fyodor folds his hands together, cold gaze burning holes through the brunette beneath him. "When you admit to me just how much you adore this, I'll stop. But until then..." He laves his fingers over one another, gaze flickering from Dazai to the digits.

Oh. Oh, so that was Fyodor's plan. Intentional humiliation.

Instantly Dazai recoils, wincing. His face quickly warms as he considers it—maybe admitting to that would, actually, kill him.

"You know I can't-!!" He whines, turning away from Fyodor. "Why not just stop now?"

"Da-zai." Fyodor stares down at him, something bordering amusement teasing at his words. His eye twitched, but whether it was from a scowl, a smile, or somehow both, the bound prodigy had no idea.

That thought was deviously flustering.

"I gave you mercy, Fyodor!!" Dazai complains with a huff, dropping his head into the mattress. He's stalling. He knows he's stalling, and Fyodor does too.

"It was only after you'd gotten what you'd wanted. Besides..." Fyodor shakes his head, preparing to deliver the final blow. Dazai waits on bated breath.

"You don't want me to show you any mercy. No, you want me to be ruthless."

A cold shiver runs down Dazai's spine but instantly goosebumps follow it as Fyodor drops his hands again to wiggle both under and on top of his ribcage.

Dazai shrieks and bursts into laughter, feeling like the sensation came from inside of him. And no matter where he shoved and moved his torso, Fyodor didn't budge. This was awful!! Awful, awful!!

"Do you like it, Dazai? I figured you would. Does being helpless for once in your life interest you?" Fyodor hums, casually taking Dazai to pieces as he traces each inch of his sensitive skin.

Dazai can't even answer, the gentle touches affecting him so much more than they should. "NOHO- HAHAh- Fyo- FYODOHOHOR!!!"

"Hmm."

"SahAHAY SOhohomethihiHIng!!!"

"No."

"FYODOHOHOR!!"

"Have your fellow agency members ever seen you, the great Dazai, like this? So... giggly, so broken?"

"Stohohop tahahalkihihing!!!"

Fyodor coughs out an indignant scoff, an amused smile twitching on his lips. "Make up your mind, Dazai." He leans backward to tease at the tops of Dazai's thighs, off-hand poking at the soft part of Dazai's knee, and Dazai yelps before dissolving into incorrigible laughter, somehow harsher than before.

Oh, he thinks he's so high and mighty, Dazai's thoughts stitch together with what little mental capacity he has. Making me laugh because of how stupidly ticklish I am.

Yet, Dazai wasn't complaining.

"Ready to admit it?" Fyodor asks, raising his voice to be heard over Dazai's screeching.

"NOHOHOHO!!"

If Dazai was honest, he was somehow approaching his limits, despite how deliciously electric he felt in every curve and flex of his body. It was slow. But the movement was there. And he wouldn't tell Fyodor that, of course.

"Alright," Fyodor mutters under his breath. "Then I'll break you myself." His gaze drifts, still absentmindedly toying with Dazai's soft skin as he appears to consider something.

Dazai tries not to blush at the infectious smugness on Fyodor's face.

Fyodor pulls his hands away, Dazai attempting to act like the absence of touch didn't bother him. And he purses his lips. "You're prepared to be physically tickled. That much is... painfully obvious, even for you."

"What?" Dazai challenges, ignoring the way his stomach cartwheels. "Giving up already?"

"Mmmm... No," Fyodor sighs softly, shaking his head like a leaf fluttering to the ground. "I wonder how much of this you can take, then?"

Dazai tries to think of an appropriate way to phrase his question, but then Fyodor's hands curl into claws and hover above his belly, just above, right there, not moving at all.

And Dazai rolls his eyes, unamused. He voices the thought. "Really, Fyodor? Do you honestly think that that can get me to-"

Then Fyodor drops his hands and Dazai tenses, sucking in his stomach for a sensation that—

Never came. He'd withdrawn his hands faster than Dazai could blink.

"What are you doing?" Dazai scoffs, but couldn't tear his eyes away from Fyodor's wrists, which were too still, right there.

 "You're trying not to think about it, but be honest, Dazai... it's not working."

Fyodor's words mix into Dazai's confused hurricane of thoughts, and suddenly Dazai is thinking about it- tickling. He's really thinking about it, despite how he tries not to—what could happen.

At any moment, which Dazai couldn't control at all, Fyodor had the power to drop his hands and draw out the intense sensation. He'd be helpless, and Fyodor could do whatever he wanted, and Dazai would be forced to lay there, take it, do nothing else-

Dazai hisses out a curse as his vision refocuses—Fyodor had gotten into his head.

"Oh?" The melodic sound dances into Dazai's mind, and when he looks up, Fyodor's fingers were fucking wiggling, twitching, then they lower, so close, too close to his skin-

Dazai's face warms as Fyodor pulls away, again, and he turns away, scrunching his eyes shut. He swallows a squeak. If he couldn't see it, it wouldn't affect him. If he couldn't-

"At any moment, Dazai," Fyodor hums, words breaking the silence, "I could reach down and gently, every so gently, drag my ticklish fingers up and down and all around your sensitive ribs."

Fuck.

And Dazai's breath hitches. He snaps his eyes open, looking directly up at Fyodor, who was- who was so mean.

Then Fyodor smirks at him, and his fingers join Dazai's line of vision, wiggling in tandem, and god he wants to crawl out of his skin.

The scene was surreal. Dazai could hardly think, hardly move, hardly-

"Hmm," Fyodor hums, and he's leaning forwards, letting his hands delicately fall to rest on each hollow of Dazai's underarms. Dazai's breath hitches—he wasn't ti- sensitive to rougher stuff...

But if Fyodor moved even one of his ten fingertips just an inch, ugh, Dazai might fall apart. He'd break. It would feel awful. He'd die laughing-

Fyodor lifts his pointer finger, just his pointer finger, and brushes the skin ever so lightly.

Completely shocked at the intensity of the small sensation, Dazai clenches his teeth as it shoots through him—whatever Fyodor had done was amplifying everything right now.

"Feeling ticklish, Dazai?" Fyodor says, tone sugary-sweet, something that already had the brunette squirming. "I can see it on your face- you're trying not to smile. But soon enough, Dazai, soon enough, you'll find that you just can't help it."

A strangled noise escapes from Dazai's throat. This was torture. Absolute torture.

Then Fyodor lifts his hands again but moves them to loom next to both sides of his waist. The evil smile he wore tied things together, and it had a lump forming in Dazai's gut.

If he just- if he moved an inch to either the left or the right, he'd touch Fyodor's fingers!

"Nervous?" Fyodor chuckles drily, in a way only he could manage. "You should be. Because, if I feel like it, I can just start..."

Dazai gasps in a startled breath as Fyodor's fingers begin to wiggle again, but slower, teasingly, and immediately they're creeping towards his side. Inch by inch, little by little-

Then suddenly, an anticipatory smile breaks his defenses, slowly creeping up his face while Fyodor watches. 

And then the dam for the rest of his physical reactions ruptures. A hot blush floods his face, coloring him a burning cinnabar red. His eyes twitch. His fingers curl.

Goosebumps shoot up his spine as Fyodor's finger brushes—just brushes!! Again!!—the small dip in his waist, and Dazai scrunches his shoulders, holding back a strangely intense peal of laughter.

"Just- Just get on with it!!" He whimpers quietly while Fyodor draws his hands back again.

Fyodor smiles back. "My, so impatient, Dazai. Wouldn't you love it if I just kept you here for hours? Just teasing, but never anything more... Oh, you'd be all tingly and desperately cute, just like you are now."

Like the first crack in a frozen lake that predicts its demise, Dazai tenses completely. His smile threatens to break into something more. His thoughts whirl wildly.

Completely bent over his anticipation.

And Fyodor, ever cruel, decides to push even further. He hums into a smile, quirks an eyebrow down at the extremely flustered prodigy, and then brushes his fluttering fingers over the taut skin of Dazai's stomach.

It was less of a touch than anything he'd used before. It was too weak to be anything.

But Dazai crumbles.

Immediately he feels the first laugh slip from his throat, even after Fyodor's fingers had long since left his torso's vicinity, and the rest follow. Fyodor wasn't even touching him, he chastizes angrily, but the thoughts are long swept away in the burst of giggles that swarm him. It was like he couldn't do anything but laugh.

Tickles, tickle, ticklish, Dazai's mind says loopily, only fanning the flames. He snaps his eyes shut, desperately trying to hold them back, but he does not succeed.

Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!!

Lost in bubbly giggles, with little to no explanation why, Dazai opens an eye and sees the expression on Fyodor's face. God, it was a mix of amusement, shock, and intrigue. A mixture that Dazai hated, and it only made the tingles feel worse.

"Stohohop lohohohooking at mehehe lihihike thahahat!!" Dazai spits through gritted teeth, though his words don't exactly reach their desired goal.

"Dazai, I'm not even touching you," Fyodor says incredulously, accent only adding to the intrigue. 

"Shuhuhut- shuhuhut uhuhup!!" Dazai groans, further curling into himself as best he could. As soon as he tries and almost succeeds to cut off the stream of laughter, thoughts of tickling overwhelm him and suddenly he's shivering, sinking back into mirth again.

"If I'd known it was this easy to shut you up, Dazai, I would've done this sooner." Fyodor breaks his teasy facade for a moment, considering Dazai, and then he begins again. "Alright, now that you're thoroughly worked up..."

"You- You're so mean!!" Dazai manages, before slipping into giggles again. He misses the way Fyodor shifts, clearly setting up for something.

"Now that you're all flustered and ready, Dazai, I can really be—as you call it—mean." 

No more buildup needed, Fyodor plunges his hands to rest just on top of Dazai's belly, and suddenly they're pinching delicately, harshly at the skin, destroying the tension in one fell swoop.

Mind short-circuiting, Dazai howls, the feeling so much more than anything else, and he bursts into a maniacal fit of laughter, unable to form any thoughts at all.

Fyodor quirks an eyebrow, kneading down into the dip of his waist. "Interesting."

"SHUHUHUT- SHUHUT UHUHUP!!" Dazai screeches, clenching his fists before desperately trying to curl into himself. Fyodor's monotone was so damn embarrassing. 

So Fyodor tilts his head, somehow not startled by Dazai's fierce thrashing. "I don't think I will. But..."  

He tweaks his left hand over the space just below Dazai's underarm, delighting in the shriek he draws out, before moving up to his ribcage, tracing the divots with consideration. Dazai jerks his head back and forth.

"I'll be nice and tell you what I'm planning," Fyodor says kindly and sighs, fingers drumming against the skin. "First... here."

His hands drift fully up to Dazai's underarms, and he swirls his fingers lazily around the hollows. "First, I'll circle here- oh, you're certainly worked up about that. Does it tickle, Dazai? Does this tickle your fancy?"

The feeling shot straight up to Dazai's head, lighting his nerves on fire. "NooHOHOHOHO!!"

"No? It doesn't?" Fyodor hums, faking consideration. "What about here, then?" Giving the prodigy no time to adjust, he leans to rub his thumbs tenderly inside the bone of Dazai's hips.

And Dazai bucks as best he can through a yelp, the sensations shifting from fluttery and light to stern and impending. Fyodor takes note of how his reactions shift- of course, he does.

Fyodor, still tickling him, leans forward to whisper in Dazai's ear. "You know how to make it stop, Dazai~... Just tell me what I want to hear."

Dazai's fuzzy thoughts finally remember—oh, that was what this was about.

He settles for arching his back instead, pushing into Fyodor's hands, and he refuses to admit that Fyodor's teases were finally working him to a limit he didn't know he had. "NEHEVEHEHER!!" 

"Alright. Alright then, Dazai," Fyodor says, pulling back, and he decides he's going to steal a page from Nikolai's book. "I can't deny, this might make you actually lose whatever sanity you have left... Just don't say I didn't warn you."

What?

What??

Eyebrows quickly furrowing, Dazai tries to form words, but then, as Fyodor said, his mind goes completely silent. Completely blank.

And Dazai instantaneously realizes why—Fyodor was blowing a gentle fucking raspberry on his stomach, just above his belly button, while his hands drew circles on his sides. Everything at once.

It felt amazing, but it was— too much. Too much, in a split second, and all Dazai feels was the intense sensation, electrifying his nerves, ruining his ability to think, but it felt so good, but it was too much, and dazed, loopy, and shrieking out mid-fits of raucous laughter, he calls out for Fyodor, and he gives in.

"FIHIHIHI- FINE! FIHIHNE, IHIHI'LL TAHAHALK!! FYO- FYODOR! PLEHEHEASE!!" Dazai screeches as he's pushed to the brink, shaking his head back and forth, a wide smile on his face.

And Fyodor pulls away, wearing a smug grin that shows— he'd won. 

"You kihihillehehed mehehe- heh, Fyodor," Dazai feels the words tumble out of his mouth He takes another precious few seconds to breathe, ignoring how Fyodor stared at him, and then he swallows, peeking open one eye.

Wow, he felt exhausted. And Fyodor was still expectant, waiting for Dazai to say the one thing he knew would embarrass him most.

"Do I haaave to?" Dazai whines, stray giggles slipping out as he stares at Fyodor, but he knows the answer already. The minute he freed himself, he'd be kicking the Russian off of his bed and curling into a ball.

Menacingly, all too silent, Fyodor blinks at him, raising an eyebrow. And Dazai sighs, succumbing to his fate.

"Fine... I-" He swallows, lips pursing. "I like when-" And his face heats up, the look Fyodor's giving him not helping at all.

"Ughh. I like it when you... tickle me, whatever. I like the way it feels," Dazai gags as he finally says it, cursing himself, and Fyodor, and the giddy feeling in his stomach, "and I'm not reeeeally sure why, but... yeah."

Fyodor doesn't even give the words a chance to marinate before he speaks.

"Very good, Dazai!" Fyodor smiles, mockingly petting the brunette on the head. Dazai rolls his eyes, gaze shifting anywhere but to try and keep his composure.

"I hate you," Dazai grumbles as Fyodor slides off of him, and in one swift movement, he frees his arms.

Fyodor laughs once more, retrieving his book from where it had landed on the floor. "I believe you."

"I'm serious." Dazai rolls his eyes, rubbing his sore wrists in his hand.

Fyodor nods. "I trust you wholeheartedly."

"Hey, will you stop it with that??"

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."

Dazai groans. Fyodor casts him one last knowing glance, and then they're both relaxing on their respective sides of the room, Dazai hiding a blush into his pillow as he reflects on the thorough tickling he'd just experienced.

Damn, Fyodor. Damn.

~

[cease-this]

Smile

For the anon that requested the ler flags fic!! I had so much fun writing this (i also finished stormbringer today and i’m not doing well!)

warnings: Teaming up, swearing!!

‼️‼️THIS IS A TICKLE FIC. IF YOURE NOT INTO THAT THEN SCROLL‼️‼️

Keep reading

[heartsywritesthethings]

day 2 - "accidental"

Submitted by GA!anon

The first time was an accident. Truly. Reki had only been trying to help Langa get better footing on his board and placed both of his hands on Langa’s sides to keep him stable. 

And he felt his friend tense up in a way that he was all too familiar with. 

Being outrageously ticklish himself, Reki knew the tell-tale signs of someone who knows just how much danger they’re in if they let out so much as a squeak. 

The second time, Reki felt like he was trying a tad bit too hard to make it seem like an accident. They were hanging out with Joe, Cherry, Shadow, and Miya, all of them sitting around and eating before their big race. Cherry and Joe were arguing as per usual and Reki wanted to get Langa’s attention to get him to focus on a cool new skateboard trick he’d found online. So he poked his friend in the side and watched Langa jump almost a mile into the sky and choke on his half-eaten sandwich. It all very quickly dissolved into chaos as everyone in the group just watched Langa sputter and gasp for air without really knowing the cause of it. 

And Reki definitely noticed just how red Langa’s pale face had gotten too. 

And now…now he was alone with Langa in the middle of the store as they waited for their manager to return and give them a break to go to S. It was just the two of them on the most boring Saturday that Reki had ever experienced. They’d already tried listening to music, watching videos, but nothing  was…well, stimulating enough. And Reki just kept staring at Langa, knowing exactly how to entertain himself, but not sure how to begin. 

“Hey, Langa,” Reki started, trying to force himself to sound casual. He even leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. Super casually. 

“Reki,” Langa responded, not even looking up from his phone. 

“We’ve been friends a while, right?” Reki continued and pulled out his phone as if he too were looking at something far more important. 

“Yes,” Came Langa’s neutral response. 

“But we don’t really know a whole lot about each other aside from skating,” Reki sighed. “But there is a game that we could play to learn more about each other,”

Langa looked up from his phone finally and raised an eyebrow, obviously interested at this point. 

“It’s twenty questions. You have to answer yes or no and you have to tell the truth,” Reki demanded and leaned in closer to Langa excitedly. The Canadian, looking as unpreterbed as usual, just shrugged. 

“Do I get to ask you questions too?” Langa asked, tilting his head to the side in an annoyingly cute way. Reiki thought about it for a moment and nodded. 

“Yeah, sure, why not.” He said dismissively. “Okay, I go first. Um…” 

Can’t start off too strong.

“Do you wish your skateboard was another color?” Reki asked. 

“No. Are you bored, Reki?” Langa asked. Again, something about Langa saying his name sent a shock of electricity down Reki’s spine that he had to willfully ignore. 

“Yeah, duh. Do you have a favorite memory of moving here?” 

A smile tugged on the edges of Langa’s lips. 

“Yes. Are you good at keeping secrets?” Langa asked. Reki did actually have to think about that one. Of course, he wanted to immediately say yes, but sometimes…well, the only person he would ever tell would be Langa. 

“Yeah, I would say so,” Reki shifted a little, “Are you ticklish?”

The smile got a little strained on Langa’s face and his friend suddenly was very interested in his own ratty sneakers. 

“Is there another game that we can play? Maybe we can watch more trick videos,” Langa said evasively. 

Now, Reki watches cartoons and right now he felt as if two devilish cartoon horns forming on the top of his head. This was an in. 

“We were playing a game! Just answer the question!” Reki insisted and moved closer to his friend. Langa crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the floor with more intensity. Reki ducked down and tried to catch his friend’s gaze. 

“Are you ticklish, Langa?” Reki asked, a teasing sing-song added to his voice. Langa’s lips pressed together. 

“Can I skip that question?” Langa grumbled. Reki smirked. 

“Sure,” He shrugged, “Where are you the most ticklish?” 

“Reki.”

“It’s a simple question, Langa,”

“I already told you that I don’t want to play this–” 

It was already too late. Reki lunged and grappled with his friend for only a moment before they were both on the hard floor of the skating store and Reki’s fingers wriggled over Langa’s sides. Langa tensed at first, his big blue eyes going wide, and then he dissolved into just the cutest fit of giggles that Reki had ever seen. Immediately, Langa curled up in on himself, trying weakly to bat away at Reki’s hands as he giggled away. 

“You should have answered the question Langa!” Reki laughed along with him. Those pesky hands fighting back were making it hard for him to target any spot in particular. That was tad annoying, but it was definitely fun trying to evade them as well. Instead of wiggling his fingers, he shifted gears into just poking randomly at different spots on Langa’s upper body to see what got the best reaction out of him. 

“Reheheheki!” Langa giggled and squeaked as a few key pokes found spots on his ribs that made him twitch. 

“And since you’re skipping out on answering my least question…where’s your most ticklish spot?” Reki said smugly as he continued to poke around Langa’s upper ribs. He wanted more squeaks, that was for sure. “Is it around here?” 

“Nohohoho!” Langa squeaked as Reki’s prodding fingers poked around his ribs some more. 

“No as in ‘please don’t tickle me there’ or ‘that’s not my most ticklish spot’?” Reki teased. He shifted gears again, this time making his hands into claws and digging around Langa’s sides and stomach since he couldn’t get good purchase around the rib area. That would have to wait for another time. Maybe if he told Shadow and some of the other older (and stronger) people in his group, he could get some help in taking Langa down. 

The claws seemed to be doing the trick though as laughter poured out of Langa’s mouth with abandon. His whole body went limp, his face scrunched up with laughter, and his nose doing just the cutest little thing as it crinkled up. 

“Cute,” Reki muttered, mostly to himself. He turned back and noticed how Langa’s legs were kicking out as he continued to tickle him. Interesting. 

“Hey, I think I may have a plan to find your most–” Reki started, leaning back and placing a hand on Langa’s leg to try and shift himself around. 

In the blink of an eye, the tables were turned. Langa had not only shoved Reki off of him, but had also pinned him to the ground. This time though, Reki was on his stomach and Langa sat comfortably on his legs, granting him zero protection. 

“Hey wait–” Reki squeaked. 

“Reki, are you ticklish?” Langa asked innocently. “Yes or no,”

  To....be.....continued....... 

[heartsywritesthethings]

Day 1: Anticipation

y’all get a treat from GA!anon this October!Thanks for the submission love!

lol it's literally been forever since I've written a fic like this, but here we go. First pairing for Tickletober is Miguel and Lyla from Across the Spiderverse! 

~ ~ ~ 

"Did you find anything yet?" Miguel snapped at his virtual assistant. Sometimes, he really hated the fact that Lyla had her own personality. Things were so much easier when artificial intelligence was just something that helped along with missions instead of getting in the way of progress. 

"Someone didn't drink their spider coffee this morning," Lyla's voice answered through the speakers on his desk, but she was nowhere to be seen. Miguel clenched and unclenched his fists as he attempted to stay calm. It'd been days since the last canon disrupting event and Miguel was starting to get...well...antsy. He was always bad at sitting still, even before he'd decided the world of superheroes was his calling. 

"Did you find anything yet?" Miguel repeated with a fair amount of venom in his voice. 

Then Lyla appeared in her usual and preferred avatar, white puffy jacket, heart shaped glasses, and black boot heels. Why she felt the need to look this ridiculous as his avatar assistant, he'd never understood. Some of the other spider-men suggested that she had to overcompensate for his constant grumpiness, but Miguel ignored them. 

"Nothing. Still." Lyla replied, looking up at Miguel with the audacity to also look annoyed. 

"Keep looking," Miguel spat and turned his attention back to the multiple screens in front of him. Lyla stuck out her tongue at him and then fizzed away. 

Miguel tapped his foot. He drummed his fingers on the desk. He idly pulled out his fangs and then allowed them to shrink back to normal. 

The waiting was always the worst part. The anticipation. He knew something was about to go wrong, like a storm gathering in the sky, but he just couldn't figure out where. No one could. It was driving him insane. All universes seemed relatively peaceful. 

Well, as peaceful as a Spider-Man's New York could be. There were fights happening, sure, but nothing that would involve Miguel having to step in and interfere. He watched other spider-people jump into action in their canon, his body itching to join the fight. 

Wait, no his body was actually itching. It had felt just like his restless energy at first, but it had intensified, all over his body like little bugs crawling up and down his spine. Was his suit malfunctioning? It was digitized as well, but it never malfunctioned. 

"Lyla do you--?!" Miguel started when he felt the buzzing stopped suddenly. His body relaxed. Lyla popped into view on his shoulder, leaning back and filing her nails. 

"What now?" She sighed. Miguel fought the urge to swat at her like a fly. Despite her being artificial, she was still very intelligent. 

"There was--" 

"Something wrong with your suit?" Lyla finished for him. He swore he could see her smirk ever so slightly. "Nonsense. Your suit never malfunctions,"

She disappeared. 

Miguel frowned at the empty space she occupied before. That was...strange. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the screens in front of him. He'd look at his suit later, there were more important things at-- 

"¡Mierda!" Miguel stumbled back from the screens as the something in his suit drilled into his armpits. As quickly as the sensations had started, they ceased, leaving Miguel with his heart hammering hard in his chest and his mind reeling. 

"What was that?" Lyla's voice asked and this time Miguel caught onto the fake innocence in her tone. She appeared right in front of him, leaning forward and putting a hand up to her ear. "I didn't quite catch what you said there,"

"What did you do to my suit?" Miguel growled, lunging forward. Lyla easily disappeared the moment his claws would have gone through her. Not that it would have done much damage to him anyway. 

"Your suit?" Lyla asked from behind him curiously. The buzzing returned, this time as something lightly crawling along his spine up to his shoulder blades. 

"ACK!" Miguel cried out, reaching behind him to no avail. "Lyla! Quit it!¿Qué está pasando?" 

"Everything alright?" 

A familiar voice asked from below Miguel's desk. The vampiric leader of the spider-men carefully leaned over the edge to see Peter B. Parker standing awkwardly below him, this time without his baby in tow. The buzzing in his suit had stopped at least, but that didn't exactly help Miguel's mood. Whatever Lyla was doing, he didn't exactly appreciate it. 

"Yes," Miguel growled, "it's fine. Do you have something to report?" 

Peter looked uncomfortable, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his bright pink bathrobe. Miguel had honestly gotten sick of seeing it, but even he knew how stubborn his fellow spider-people could be and that was not a hill he was willing to die on. Besides, there was a spider-horse around here somewhere. 

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about Miles again," Peter started. Always the same with him. Miguel rolled his eyes, not bothering to bring the platform down. 

"I've given you my answer. It's still no," Miguel said. The buzzing started again, this time around the back of his knees. It felt like light feathers lightly drifting up and down the backs of his kneecaps. He almost buckled entirely as the tickly sensations raced up his nerves and threatened to take him under. 

"I just want to check on the kid," Peter continued, completely oblivious to the struggle that Miguel was going through right now, "It's been a while and I'm just...I know he wanted to be a part of something bigger, you know? He'd do really well here and you'd like him. Well, as much as you can like anyone. You're like the only Spider-man who isn't sociable. Or funny." 

Would this guy ever shut up? It was like this every damn time this Peter Parker walked into this side of the base. Wah wah wah, my baby. Miles. Canon. 

"I-hihi--" Miguel quickly clamped his mouth shut as a giggle threatened to escape his lips. It felt like a finger was dragging up and down his armpits, just teasing him. Miguel could feel his whole body shake with the effort of keeping the laughter at bay. Even when he clamped his arms down tight against his sides, it didn't matter. 

"Is this a bad time?" Peter asked. 

"He's listening," Lyla answered for him though her voice sounded far away, as if she was right in front of Peter and completely ignoring Miguel. "He's just being a little grumpy right now,"

"Come...back...later...¡Dios mío, deja de hacerme cosquillas!" Miguel managed through gritted teeth. Something fluttered around his midsection and he fought to stay upright. 

"Is everything alright?" Peter asked and suddenly the tickling stopped. Miguel took a deep breath and cleared his throat. This was absolutely ridiculous. 

"Yes. I'm fine. I've made my position on visiting Miles Morales clear." Miguel said and peered over the edge of the platform at Peter. The Spider-Man frowned at him, looking like he wanted to say more, but then Lyla appeared by his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Miguel bristled, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment though he knew that Peter couldn't see it through the mask. 

Suddenly Peter smiled and chuckled to himself as Lyla disappeared. 

"Well, obviously you're busy, so I'll talk to you later about it," He said, turning on his heel and heading towards the exit. Miguel reached for the platform controls. 

"What did she say to you?!" Miguel growled, "Lyla?! What are you up to?"

The platform lowered, but as it did, the tickling began again. All across his stomach, his sides, his underarms and even the bottoms of his feet. Miguel couldn't help it this time. He collapsed pitifully in a fit of snickers, giggles, and huffed Spanish curses. 

"¡No ahí! Noahahahaa!" Miguel laughed on the floor of the platform, feeling the tickling buzzing around his thighs now. It was completely overwhelming though Miguel wasn't even quite sure how Lyla even knew how ticklish he was. How did she manage to get into his suit like this?! 

"¡Maldita sea, mujer! ¡Deja de hacerme cosquillas! ¡Por favor!" Miguel begged in Spanish. It seemed that his ability to speak english completely went out the window once he'd been tickled silly. 

"Say you're sorry," Lyla sighed as she floated casually above him. She smiled at him innocently. "And I'll fix your suit."

"¿Por qué carajo debería disculparme?" Miguel snapped. Apparently she could translate that as the tickling feelings drilled into his armpits again and Miguel positively squealed. He kicked his feet as the buzzing somehow managed to slide in between his toes. He was losing his mind right now. 

"¡B-bien! ¡Lo lamento! ¡Por favor deje de! AHAHAHA NO!" Miguel cackled. Lyla yawned and then shrugged her shoulders. 

"Good enough for now I guess," She said and flicked her wrist. The intense tickling stopped and Miguel gasped for breath on the floor. 

Slowly, he pulled himself together and glared at his screens now as if they were the cause of his discomfort. He waited, pulling the platform back to where it needed to be. He waited for another canon disruption or for Lyla to mess with his suit again. 

His skin crawling...with anticipation as to what would come first. 

[rosiesramblings]

Like Riding a Bike

Fandom: Ted Lasso

WC: 1.4k

A/N: Hello!! It's been a minute!! Sorry about that. Turns out my new job is actually insane. On the plus side, I am getting a ton of overtime lol. ANYWAY, thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this fic, prompted by anon :) Can be read as platonic or pre-relationship.

“For grandad!”

Jamie’s shout echoed across the shadows of the park, and before he knew it Jamie had Roy balanced carefully on a perfectly-legal, not-at-all-stolen, authentic Amsterdam bike.

“Alright, now head up, hips square, aaaaand… pedal!” To his credit, Jamie did not laugh when Roy seemed to fall to the side in slow motion. He didn’t. Okay, maybe his lips twitched a little bit, but Jamie could easily blame that on a muscle spasm after all the exercise he’d done that day.

“It’s alright, good lad, good lad, right back on,” Jamie cheered, channeling his Mummy when she taught him to ride a bike as a sexy little baby. Roy did not seem to appreciate the encouragement the same way baby Jamie had, pushing grown-up Jamie back with a growl as he swung his leg back over the seat.

Clearly, Roy needed some extra help. This time, Jamie planted one hand on the back of Roy’s neck, and the other steady on Roy’s waist. Roy was tense underneath his fingers, but, Jamie figured, he was entitled to a little tension when he’s facing shit from his past. Losing his Grandad really fucked him up, and Jamie wasn’t going to begrudge the man his feelings, no matter how Roy tried to choke them into submission.

“Don’t need my fucking hand held,” Roy growled, undercutting his statement when Jamie let go and Roy immediately toppled sideways. “Fuck!”

“Alright, keep your trousers on, old man,” Jamie put his hands up in the universal ‘do no harm’ gesture. “Let’s try again, come on.” 

Roy gave a long suffering sigh, rolled his eyes so far back that Jamie was pretty sure he got a good look at his own brain, and swung his leg back over.

Jamie, trying to be a good friend, lightened his touch since Roy clearly wasn’t a fan of Jamie touching him in the first place. 

If possible, Roy got even more tense. “Oi!” He barked at Jamie. “I said don’t fucking need you for balance!” He claimed, scrunching his shoulders like Jamie always did when Sam wiggled his fingers under Jamie’s chin.

Now, Jamie wasn’t what anyone would call a genius. He wasn’t really book smart; the letters moved around too much for him to want to unscramble them. Because of this, people were constantly underestimating him, at least in the brains department. Look, Jamie might not be winning the Know Bell Prize or some shit any time soon, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. He knew what it looked like when a poor sod was ticklish and doing his damned best to hide it.

Jamie bit down on his tongue to hide a mischievous smile. “Look, mate, you don’t have to like it, but you need me until you can at least get a few meters on your own, yeah? C’mon, let’s do this, old man.”

Roy grumbled what Jamie figured was an assent, and Jamie placed his hands just firm enough that it could reasonably be interpreted as keeping Roy balanced, and not as a quest to get Roy Kent to laugh. Holy shit, did Roy giggle? This was going to be so damn fun.

Under Jamie’s light touch, Roy instantly tensed back up. Jamie risked a tease. “C’mon, mate, you’re never gonna keep your balance when you’re this stiff. You gotta loosen up a little,” Jamie squeezed Roy’s neck, and was rewarded with a growl that Jamie would bet his entire trainer closet was covering up a chuckle.

“You can fuck right off if you’re gonna keep talking instead of teaching,” Roy bit out.

“Right-o, Roy-o,” Jamie said cheerfully. “Look straight ahead, not at your toes, just like football, yeah? Otherwise the only place you’re going is down.” Jamie subtly moved his hand a little higher so that it was resting on Roy’s ribs. Roy made a sound like all the air had been punched out of him.

Jamie took his hand from Roy’s neck and used it to cover his smile. God, this made all the four am training sessions more than worth it. 

Instead of putting his hand back on Roy’s neck, Jamie decided to up the ante, and wormed his fingers under Roy’s armpit.

This seemed to be the last straw for Roy, who gave a shout and buckled to the side. Jamie went down with him, figuring the jig was up, and started playing Roy’s ribs like a goddamn piano.

“Shit - fuck - you shihihiitfucker - dahahahahahammit Tahahartt!” Roy broke, low, growly giggles (giggles! This was the best day of Jamie’s life.) and tried to curl away from Jamie’s fingers.

“Awww, what’s the matter, mate? Could it be the the big, bad, Roy fucking Kent is as ticklish as a little lad?” Jamie goaded, sneaking a hand underneath Roy’s hoodie and scribbling at his stomach.

Roy tossed his head back, a forced grin on his lips. Jamie was sure if his eyes were open there would be murder in them.  “Ihihihi’m gonna fuhuhucking KIHIHILL YOU!” Roy roared, his back arching.

“Roy, mate, this is fucking golden,” Jamie crowed, his smile splitting his face. Roy thrashed hard, harder than Jame was expecting. 

Jamie knew he was on borrowed time, so he wormed both of his hands into Roy’s underarms, and he was not disappointed.

Roy Kent. Fucking. Howled.

Jamie couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “Oh my god, this is worse than I thought - mate, this is a fucking liability! How are you supposed to be ‘here, there, and every-fucking - woah!”

Quicker than Jamie could blink, Roy flipped their positions, and was looming about Jamie like a fucking werewolf. And looking at Jamie like he was a fucking steak.

“Roy, mate, it’s all in good fun, yeah? We don’t really have to -”

“Oh no, we abso-fucking-lutely have to,” Roy growled, a smile still in his voice despite the eyebrows he was giving Jamie.

That was all the warning Jamie got before Roy wrecked his shit. 

One hand went to Jamie’s hips, kneading like he was baking fucking bread or some shit. The other hand spidered over Jamie’s tummy, which was arguably worse.

“ROHOHOHOHOHOHOY,” Jamie screeched, tossing his head back, a smile splitting his face.

“Fucking what?”

“TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES.”

“I’d fucking well hope so,” Roy said, ruching up Jamie’s shirt in one smooth motion and scribbling across bare skin. “You’d better get used to this, cause we’re gonna be here for a while.”

“SHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT,” Jamie cursed, shaking his head back and forth.

“No? No, we’re not going to be here for a while? Or no, you can’t handle any more tickles? Cause I’m about to prove you wrong on both accounts,” Roy said as the hand squeezing Jamie’s hip moved down to torture his thigh instead.

Somehow, Roy’s growly voice saying ‘tickles’ made it tickle infinitely more. Jamie was no stranger to being tickled - since it was no longer ok to hit him, his teammates had to find other ways to get him to shut his mouth. But Roy was on another fucking level. And Jamie was losing his goddamn mind.

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE,” Jamie was not above begging.

“You want to see something that always gets Phoebe?”

“NOHOHOHOHOHO!”

“Too bad,” Roy said, and leaned down to blow a fucking raspberry above Jamie’s belly button.

In the tiny part of his brain that wasn’t going insane from the tortuous sensations, Jamie imagined telling his 10 year old self that one day he’d be lying down in a park in fucking Amsterdam, getting the absolute shit tickled out of him by his childhood hero. If Jamie could have laughed any harder, he would have.

“ROHOHOHOHOY,” Jamie wailed.

“You ever gonna try that shit again?”

“PROHOHOHOBABLY,” Jamie answered.

“Yeah, knew that was probably too much to ask,” Roy grumbled. “You gonna try that shit in front of anybody else?”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO,” Jamie promised.

“Fucking sure?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHEHES! PLEHEHEHEASE ROHOHOY!” Jamie begged, on the verge of insanity.

“Alright,” Roy said, and finally ceased his tickling.

Jamie curled up in a ball, tugging his shirt back down. He wiped the tears from his face, still giggling.

Roy ruffled Jamie’s hair. “Come on. I’m going to ride a bike tonight even if I blow out my other fucking knee.”

All Jamie could do was groan through his giggles.

[rosiesramblings]

Tell the Fucking Truth

Fandom: Ted Lasso

WC: 700ish

A/N: Ok, anon requested 9 and G from this obscure media prompt list, and I KNOW that Ted Lasso isn't obscure in the slightest but nobody in this community writes for it so I am bending the rules. Enjoy!

TW for gratuitous use of the word 'fuck' and all its derivatives. Cause it's Roy fucking Kent. :)

If you made a list called, “Things About Jamie Tartt That Annoy Roy Kent,”, typed it up in Times New Roman 10 pt. font, and ordered each item of the list on top of the other, the resulting stack of paper required to contain that list would be taller than Roy himself. Probably.

The point is, there was a metric fuckton of reasons Jamie annoyed him. But the loudest, giggliest reason was currently the issue Roy was focused on.

Since the team had found out Jamie was ticklish, and since anyone with eyes could see that the arsehole was starved for physical affection, there was barely a day that went by that Jamie’s laughter didn’t echo across the pitch or the locker room. That was not Roy’s issue. Frankly, Tartt was much more palatable when he couldn’t speak for laughing. No, his issue was with the blatant, infuriating way that Tartt would deny the obvious.

“Nahahahahat even tihihihicklish!” Jamie would shriek when someone would scribble across his ribs or jam their fingers into his underarms. Like clockwork. There wasn’t a single person on the team who had gotten him to admit the truth. And, for some entirely irrational reason, it pissed Roy off.

Today was the last straw.

Tartt was literally rolling on the grass, cackling as he tried to avoid Sam’s wiggling fingers. Even though it looked like he could barely breathe, Tartt still somehow found the strength to bellow those words that made Roy want to rip his hair out.

“OI! OBISANYA!” Roy yelled as he stalked toward the two.

“Yes, Coach?” Sam asked.

“If he can still deny he’s fucking ticklish, then you obviously aren’t FUCKING doing it right!” Roy shouted, swiftly pushing Sam off Jamie and taking his place. Roy watched as panic and excitement battled for dominance in Jamie’s eyes.

“Oi, I dunno what you’re on ahabout, Coach,” Jamie declared cheekily. “Cause I’m really not even - FUHUHUHUHUHUHUCK!” Jamie threw his head back and screamed as Roy placed his hands on Jamie’s hips and squeezed.

“What was that? You got something to say?” Roy asked, teeth bared in a terrifying smile-adjacent expression.

“I’m NAHAHAHAHAT – NAHAHAHAHAT – SHIHIHIHIHIHIT!” Jamie’s smile was splitting his face so wide, and his eyes were squeezed shut. Roy scoffed. This was too fucking easy.

“You gonna admit it yet, or do I have to actually start fucking tickling you?” Roy asked.

Even as Jamie’s eyes bugged open at the threat, and even as one of Roy’s hands rose threateningly towards Jamie’s ribs, Jamie still didn’t back down. Instead, he stuck out his fucking tongue, and, well. Roy wasn’t going to stand for any disrespect.

Roy raked his blunt nails down the left side of Jamie’s rib cage as his other hand clawed at Jamie’s hip bones with renewed vigor. With both of his worst spots under attack, Jamie let out a hysterical scream-laugh that had Sam giggling from where he was still seated next to Jamie’s side.

“Admit it, and this stops,” Roy called gruffly over Jamie’s laughter.

“COHAHAHAHAHA – COAHAHA – ROHOHOHOHOHOY!” Was all Jamie could get out, but Roy knew that meant he was ready to talk. Jamie never called him by his first name.

Roy stilled his hands, but didn’t move them from Jamie’s body. “Well?”

“IHIHIHIihihihihi’m – ihihihihihi’m a lihihittle fuhuhuhuckin’ tihihihihihicklish, alrihihihght?” Jamie gasped out.

“Fucking finally,” Roy growled, heaving himself up off of the striker. Before he could think better of it, he reached out and ruffled a hand through Jamie’s hair. There. Tartt would be fine.

Sam ran a hand up and down Jamie’s arm soothingly as Roy heaved himself to his feet, satisfied. He looked around and saw that the rest of the team had apparently seen the whole thing. Which just wouldn’t do.

“What are you lot FUCKING looking at?” Roy roared, channeling some rage by picturing his sister’s ex. They all jumped and hurriedly went back to whatever bullshit drills they had been doing before the spectacle.

As Roy stalked away, he heard Sam ask, “Did you get what you wanted, my friend?”

All he got in response was a giggly hum of affirmation.

[rosiesramblings]

Team Bonding

Fandom: Ted Lasso; Jamie and AFC Richmond

WC: 1.5k

A/N: Here it is! I'm actually pretty proud of this one. This is a fic based on my Ted Lasso headcannons. I have such a soft spot for Jamie, I stg. Any other ted lasso prompts are welcome!

It was a few weeks after the Dubai Air protest, and Jamie was balanced on a strange tightrope of ‘not-friends-with-anyone-but-nobody-seems-to-hate-his-guts-either.’ Privately, he mused to himself that it took way less effort to just be a prick and let everyone hate him. At least then he could do and say whatever, without having to worry about how it would come across to his teammates. But since the Dubai Debacle, as Jan Maas had taken to calling it, Jamie was hyper aware of the teaspoon of goodwill he had earned with the team and was desperately trying not to lose it. 

He felt jittery and on edge, constantly keeping his body moving during training because if he was out of breath he would have to take a minute before speaking, and then he was less likely to say something stupid and mean. His face muscles were sore from all the smiling he was doing; he would be damned before he let his RBF push away the team. 

That’s why, when Roy screamed, “WHISTLE!” and Sam grabbed Jamie’s knee to hoist himself to his feet, Jamie didn’t have the energy or the presence of mind to hold back a yelp.

“Oi, you alright, boyo?” Colin asked, brows furrowed.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine,” Jamie said, rubbing at his knee absently. “Startled me, didn't he?”

“Really?” Sam asked, cocking his head to the side. “When you are scared, you have a tendency to lash out, my friend. Not… whatever sound you just made.”

Jamie pulled himself to his feet, hoping his blush wasn’t obvious. “Haven’t you heard, Sam? I’ve turned over a new leaf. One of eleven, an’ all that.”

Sam just hummed, looking contemplative as he, Colin, and Jamie ran towards the dulcet roars of Roy Kent.

Jamie threw himself into training, trying to run from the phantom feeling of Sam squeezing his knee. Or, more accurately, trying to run from the realization that that was the first time in a long time that someone had touched him without the intent to cause pain.

When Roy had finally screamed, “WHISTLE!” for the last time and told them to get out of his sight (Jamie personally thought the old man was going soft. That was barely a threat.), the team hit the showers. Jamie thought he felt someone’s eyes on him, so he smiled a little bigger, laughed a little louder, determined to prove that he had changed. Jamie was so focused on proving himself that he almost didn’t notice Sam until the man was right in front of him.

“Feeling ok, Jamie?” Sam asked, and Jamie was suddenly quite jealous of how niceness seemed to come so easily to him.

“Fine,” Jamie said, before realizing how curt he sounded. He cleared his throat, forcing his mouth into what he hoped was a friendly grin. “What’s up, Sam?”

“I wanted to apologize for startling you earlier,” Sam said. Jamie’s hand absently went to rub at his knee. “I did not mean to cross a boundary.”

“Don’t worry about it mate,” Jamie said, squirming. He never really knew what to do when someone apologized to him. “Didn’t cross no boundary.”

“That’s good to hear. I also wanted to ask,” Sam began, reaching down to squeeze Jamie’s knee. “Have you always been this ticklish?”

Jamie’s surprised yelp echoed around the locker room, which fell quiet. The only sound Jamie heard was the blood rushing in his ears, watching as Sam’s smile morphed into a more devious smirk. Jamie’s eyes widened as he leapt up from the bench as if he’d been electrocuted, his fight or flight kicking in with a vengeance. He didn’t get far.

“Where you going, bruv?” Isaac asked as he snagged Jamie by the elbow, bringing him into a crushing bear hug.

“L-let go, McAdoo, I swear to - shit, nohohohohohoho,” Jamie had no hope of holding in his giggles when Sam spidered over his defenseless tummy. 

“Jamie, this is quite cute,” Sam said sincerely.

Jamie felt his ears burn as he heard various sounds of teasing agreement from the rest of the team. He tried to curl in on himself to hide his blush, but Colin was suddenly at his side. “Oi, none of that, boyo,” he said as he fluttered his fingers over Jamie’s exposed neck and ears. “We want to hear you laugh.”

“Nonononono, Col, plehehehehease,” Jamie begged, squirming as much as Isaac’s iron grip allowed.

“Oh, such nice manners,” Sam teased. “Too bad they’re no help today.” Jamie’s laugh pitched higher the closer Sam’s fingers got to his belly button.

“Where else are you ticklish, Jay?” Colin asked.

“Nohohot tihihicklish!” Jamie cackled.

“Oh, really?” Sam asked, deeply amused. “What do you call this then?” He said as he squeezed Jamie’s sides mercilessly.

“AH! Cruhuhuhuel an’ unuhuhusual punihihishment,” Jamie gasped out amid giggles.

“OI!” Roy’s voice echoed in the small space. “What the actual fuck is going on in here?”

Colin and Sam stilled their fingers. “We have made a most exciting discovery about our ex- ex- teammate,” Sam explained, smiling.

“They’re killin’ me, Coach,” Jamie panted as he blinked the tears out of his eyes, unable to tamp down his smile.

Roy studied them for a long moment. “Obsianya,” he finally barked.

“Yes, Coach?”

“Try his knees.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Wait, Coach, wait, no please oh my GAHAHAHAD,” Jamie belly laughed as Sam knelt down and squeezed the muscle just above Jamie’s kneecap. Jamie took back every thought he ever had about Roy going soft - the man was a menace. Jamie couldn’t really tell, but he could have sworn he saw Roy duck his head to hide a smile.

“Your smile is very lovely, Jamie,” Sam said. “It is a pity we haven’t seen it more.”

“St-stop teasING, SAHAHAHAHAHAM,” Jamie wailed, pressing his head back onto Isaac’s shoulder as Sam found that horrible patch of skin behind his knee.

“I am quite serious,” Sam promised.

“Yeah, boyo, it’s downright adorable,” Colin grinned, crooking his fingers under Jamie’s chin to make him jerk his head back down. 

“Hey there, fellas, what’s goin’ on?” a familiar Kansian twang called out. Sam and Colin paused once again.

“Just a bit of team bonding, Coach,” Colin grinned at Lasso, who was observing the scene with a bemused expression.

“Huh,” Ted said. “Well, don’t be too long. We got a match in a few days. Need everybody in top shape, can’t have our striker be a giggly puddle of goo.”

Jamie let out a (admittedly giggly) whine of embarrassment. Lasso zeroed in on him with a smile. 

“You know, there’s one thing I do to Henry that always has him laughing like a hyena,” the coach mused. 

Jamie’s eyes widened, and he shook his head back and forth frantically, certain he wouldn’t be able to handle whatever tickly Dad tricks Lasso had up his sleeve. 

Coach clocked Jamie’s panic and chuckled to himself. “I s’pose I’ll save that for another day. Have fun, fellas,” he said as he turned back to his office.

Sam grinned wickedly, “Now, Jamie. There’s one more spot I was to try, but you’re going to have to cooperate.” He nodded to Isaac who finagled Jamie’s arms behind his back, which, Jamie realized suddenly, left his ribs perilously exposed.

“Saham, Sam, c’mon, you’ve had your fun, plehehease dohohon’t,” Jamie giggled, wide eyes glued to Sam’s fingers, which began wiggling in the air. “Aw, c’mon, mate that’s not fahahahair.”

“Why? I am not even touching you yet, Jamie. Why are you giggling? Especially if you aren’t ticklish?” Sam smiled.

“Yohohou’re - yohohohohohou’re gonnahahaha!” Jamie whined, writhing as Sam’s fingers crept closer and closer. Colin stepped behind Jamie to help Isaac hold him securely.

“Yes. I am,” Sam said, and promptly latched his fingers onto Jamie’s rib cage.

Jamie shrieked, arching his back like he’d been shocked, before going limp and cackling madly. He couldn’t form words, just shook his head back and forth as tears ran down his face. It tickled, it tickled, it tickled, and Jamie couldn’t focus on anything but the electric sensation shooting across his ribs.

After what felt like hours (but was really only moments), Sam let up, chuckling as Isaac and Colin gently lowered Jamie to the ground. With his hands free, Jamie wrapped his arms around himself, still laughing as he caught his breath. The locker room chatter resumed since the show was over. Sam sat down next to him and threw an arm around Jamie’s shoulders, giving a comforting squeeze as Jamie calmed down.

“Fuck, mate,” Jamie breathed. “That was brutal.”

“And yet,” Sam lowered his voice so that only Jamie could hear him, “You never told me to stop.”

Jamie felt his face heat back up with another blush as Sam gave him a final squeeze before standing and pulling Jamie to his feet. “Come on, Jamie Tartt. I will buy you lunch, as an apology.”

Jamie shook his head bashfully. “No apologies necessary, mate. I’m all good.”

“Fine then. I will buy you lunch, because sometimes friends buy each other lunch.”

A smile dawned across Jamie’s face as he took in Sam’s words, and he felt a weight lift off his chest. “Oh, well. That’s alright, then.”

Jamie threw an arm across Sam’s shoulders, practically skipping out to the parking lot. He made a friend! And really, it hadn’t been that hard. Just took a little team bonding.

[bratbutcute]

hi bestie!!!! can you do 1 with ler!jake and lee!marc?? i feel like that might be kinda hard tho, so if it is could you do 8 or 11 with ler!jake and lee!steven??? thank you SO much i love you!!!! mwah

I’m gonna do the first one ‘cause, as you know, I’m a sucker for Lee!Marc 😈 (and I also gave you a bit of ler!Steven cause, why not?)

Ily too soooooooo much, and everybody should check their account bc *chefs kisses* they are amazing 😘😘😘

This is much longer than I intended and I don’t think the other prompts are going to be so long because I’m slowly realising it takes me a TREMENDOUS amount of time to write and I’d like all your requests to be filled as soon as possible.

Also, Marc and the concept of winning is slowly becoming a trend in these requests 😅

Warning: very very intense tickling.

1. “I’d like to see you try.”

Marc liked winning. Actually, Marc was used to winning. Having spent so much time with Steven he had the physical but also strategical advantage and he was never one to shy away from using them to get whatever he wanted or to prove his superiority.

Steven was used to this but still tried to assert himself the way he could. In fact, even if he looked very insecure, Steven knew how smart he was and liked bragging about it. He both loved seeking Marc’s approval and correcting him all the time, especially in front of Layla and, for obvious reasons, Marc hated when this occurred.

So it wasn’t unusual to see the two of them bickering, but in the end they knew Marc would be the winner since, even if he was wrong, all it took was a pinch on Steven’s sides to make him squeal and admit defeat.

That was until Jake entered the picture.

To be honest nobody was used to this new dynamic; the three of them were still a bit unfamiliar with each other and Jake was visibly uncomfortable with sentimental talks and communication in general. But they were starting to loose a bit, and very soon they all realised how stubborn and proud the man was, even more than Marc, but for some reason he decided to use this to help Steven, rather than joining forces with Marc.

Steven soon found out that there could be something more satisfying than seeing Marc struggling in front of Layla, and that was seeing him embarrassed in front of Jake.

He really felt like the youngest sibling of the three. And, Gods, he knew how to play his role.

«Marc I have no clue what you’re talking about.» he faked innocence, hiding his grin by turning around the dining table, walking towards the couch.

He actually knew what he had done. He told Marc a bunch of incorrect facts about a book he promised Layla he would read, but didn’t. Layla let him speak all the way through barely hiding her amusement until Marc started talking about aliens and she burst out laughing so loud that the entire restaurant stopped talking. Marc was so embarrassed that blush could still be seen on his cheeks when he came back home.

«You fucking know what you did man.» he knew that Steven was just having some fun and no harm was really done, but he still made him look bad in front of Layla and that was something he couldn’t stand, and so Steven needed to be taught a lesson.

«If you really wanted your facts straight than you should have read the book.» grinned him matter of factly, sitting on the couch and crossing his feet on the coffee table.

«You little shit.» when Steven opened his eyes Marc was standing right in front of him, a murderous expression on his face. «You better run man, ‘cause when I catch you you’re gonna pay for this.»

Steven was already on his feet when a low voice startled both of them.

«I don’t think so.» Jake materialised from the hall, staring Marc with a straight face.

«This doesn’t concern you, this is between me and Steven.»

«You are wrong.» when Marc turned Jake was much closer than before, standing just a few inches away from him. He winced, not expecting the proximity.

«He made me look like an idiot in front of Layla, and he was full aware of that.» facing Steven he could now see his satisfied smile.

«From what I hear.» he circled the man, watching him like a hunter would if they were standing in front of their prey. Marc suddenly felt nervous, as his heart pounded a bit faster in his chest. «You’re the one who messed up. If Steven outsmarted you, that’s your fault.»

«Ah! You hear him Marc? I outsmarted you! How does it feel to be outsmarted?» Steven gloated, thrilled with the way things were going. Jake glanced at him reproachfully.

«Don’t push it.»

«Sorry.»

«He didn’t outsmart me. He just enjoys it when Layla makes fun of me.»

Steven widely grinned, hiding behind Jake while a small giggle left his mouth.

Marc tensed. «That’s it! I’m gonna kill you.» but before he could attack, Jake tackled him on the floor, face on the carpet and hands trapped under his knees. From what he could see Steven was beaming with amusement.

«Now now.» Marc squirmed, starting to realise what was going to happen «Is that how we talk to Steven?» said man crouched in front of them and tilted his head.

«Is it?» he asked with his innocent accent that was making Marc boil with anger.

«The instant you let me go you’re a dead man.» Jake grinned at the threat, his idea of going “easy” - as easy as he could go with someone - fading in front of his face.

«I’d like to see you try» he positioned his hands on Marc’s ribs, causing him to jump, and leaned next to his ear. His whispering words made the man shiver «Are you going to apologise?»

Marc pondered his choice but, as previously said, he wasn’t used to lose a fight, so instead of backing off he spitted: «Fuck off.»

«Mejor así.»

And Jake attacked.

Marc was tough, it wasn’t as easy as Steven to break, you really had to work your way to extort laughter out of him. But Jake loved a challenge. This wasn’t the first time he tickled Marc, but it usually were just the two of them in a weird and not well defined moment between midnight and the sunrise. A secret moment of bonding where words - something so hard for both of them - felt useless and the two of them sat silently together. But when words did occur, they poured out of their mouth as quickly as alcohol poured in. That’s when tickling would happen, usually as a form of relaxation after realising how much they had shared and wanted to lose tension. Or to be more precise, when Jake could see Marc uncomfortable and did not know any other way to distract him.

Marc’s ribs were very ticklish, they were one of his worst spots and Jake was full aware of that, that’s why they were his first target.

He pinched every rib from the bottom to the top, feeling the muscles tremble under his skin as a grin graced the man’s lips. But Marc was stubborn and he would probably pass out rather than start laughing.

Unless.

«Steven. Tease him.»

Steven blushed at the straightforward question. He knew that Jake did not like to go around and asked exactly what he wanted, but still he didn’t expect it.

«What?»

«You want him to apologise? You have to break him. You want to break him? Tease him.»

«Man what t- the fu-» he gasped as Jake pressed his highest rib, squeezing his eyes and focusing all his attention on his self control.

Steven grinned, accepting Jake’s assignment.

«You don’t look so tough now Mark uh? You’re looking pretty tickled pink» Jake rolled his eyes at the terrible pun and massaged Marc’s top ribs more fiercely now, sure that he would break soon. They all knew that he couldn’t handle Steven’s teases, since they were much more wholesome than Jake could ever think of.

Marc’s smile trembled. He wanted to tell Steven how stupid it was, but he was sure laughter would pour out of his mouth as soon as he opened it so opted for a stern look.

«Oh do not look at me like that. You liked it. Juuuust as much as you like all of this.»

«S-shuh-» he gasped feeling Jake’s hands on his lowest ribs now.

«What do you mean Steve?»

«What I mean is» Steven giggled and sat cross legger in front of Marc’s head, fluttering his fingers on his ears, making him finally break in a fit of loud and boisterous laughter «that Marc enjoys all this love and attention he’s receiving.»

«SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP DOHOHOHOHONT SAAHHAHAHAHY IHIHIHIHIHIT»

Jake grinned. Now that Marc was laughing he could be a little gentler, so not to get him tired right away and torment him longer.

He readjusted his position on Marc and raised his arms, asking Steven to keep them still.

«I’d like to hear more about this.»

«Nohohoho yohohohu dohohohon’t I sweehehehahahahr Stehehehveehehehn» but Steven was safe - for now - and loved embarrass him.

«Marc loooves when being tickled. Aww look at you soo blushy and cutey.» he cooed strengthening his hold on Marc’s wrists when he felt him struggle more.

«Nohohot trueheheeh»

Jake stared at his victim, analysing his next move. Than he put his hands on Marc’s forearms, happy he was wearing a t-shirt so his skin was very well exposed.

He let his nails scratch the tender skin of his arms, travelling slowly towards his underarms.

Marc exploded in a fit of giggles, drumming his feet on the floor, the sensation of helplessness making him going crazy. Tingles ran across his arms making him shiver.

When Jake reached his elbows he squealed «OHOHOHOH MYHYHYYY GOHOHOHOD» he hiccuped squeezing his eyes. The worst part was that he really was loving this. He wasn’t even trying hard to escape, he was just letting the feeling of Jake’s finger sink in his skin. He knew that soon he would reach his underarms and he could already feel him there.

«Ohoho my Gohohod Marc are you okay?» Steven checked him with a loving expression on his face.

«You look like a red balloon ready to pop.»

«SUHUHUUUT UHUHUHUHUP» he yelled in embarrassment.

Jake sighed at Marc’s bad behaviour and decided to hit his worst spot right away, bored by the building up.

When his fingers touched Marc’s underarms he screamed, startling Steven who lost his grip. It took Marc a minute to realise he could lower his arms, but when he tried to, Steven’s hands were again on his wrists, now struggling to keep him still.

«LEHEHEHEHEHEHT MEHEHEHEHEH GOHOHOHO» he snorted and pulled his hands again, making Steven huff.

«Stop moving so much we’re truing to tickle you here.» Marc bursted out laughing again, stronger, squirming under them both.

Jake got an idea. He gestured at Steven to let him go and gave him more space to move.

Marc immediately curled up in a fetal position giggling and hiding himself, gasping air very similarly to Gus in his fish tank.

«Now, you can choose to apologise to Steven. Or we can keep going. The choice is on you.»

Jake despite what it might look like was a very calm person, almost meticulous in everything he did. He had strategies forming in his head every second of his life and knew his opponent’s weaknesses. And Marc was a proud man.

«Nehehehvehehehehr.» a proud man who was actually enjoying this. He made a note in his head to use this newfound information.

«Well Marc, than I think you’re leaving us no choice other than continue tickling you.» he grabbed his sides and, while squeezing them, he made Marc sit between his legs.

«Nohoho»

«Aww, but you like it so much!» Marc tried launching himself towards Steven, but was quickly stopped by Jakes hands that travelled from his sides to his underarms.

«Please behave. You don’t want to know what happens if you don’t.» even Steven shivered at his words.

«Now, Steven could you please have the honour?»

Marc shook his head and tried curling himself, but Steven sat on his legs, exposing his upper body in a very vulnerable way. Jake caught his hands and held them behind Marc’s back, making him completely helpless.

«Stehehevehehehn. Dohohont dohohoho thihis.» Steven tilted his head and grinned.

«You could have read that stupid book.» and he scribbled his fingers on his belly, making Marc giggle so softly that even Jake’s heart melted a bit.

Only a bit though. He still had a mission. «Steven you have to do more than that if you want him to learn his lesson.»

Steven thought about it and then he lit up, making Marc nervous. «I know what to do!»

He grinned and pulled Marc’s body a little closer, so that he was leaning a bit and his belly was stretched. His t-shirt rose up a bit and Marc realised what was about to happen.

«DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE STEVEN IHIHIHIHIHIHI-» Jake scribbled his ribs with one hand.

«Steven show me please.»

Steven exposed Marc’s stomach removing the fabric from his skin and grinned. «You alway do this to me. I wonder how it will work against you.»

And he blew a raspberry on his navel, making Marc laugh again, loud and freely. The feeling so strong he was loosing his breath.

After a couple of raspberries Jake could feel Marc ‘s laughter tired, but he knew he needed just something else to finally make him admit defeat.

«You know what Steven? I think Marc does this to you because your belly is very ticklish.» Steven blushed and squirmed a bit in his place.

«But I think Marc is more ticklish somewhere else.»

«Nohohoho guhuhuys.» he chuckled low, his voice a bit hoarse by all the laughing.

«I’m gonna take it from here.» he raised one of Marc’s hands, letting go of the other: he knew Marc couldn’t escape him anyway. He then made him lean a bit more on one side, exposing the other.

While raising his shirt to expose his ribs Marc started shouting incoherent words between fits of laughter.

«NONONO IHIHI- LEHEHET MEHEHE GOHO.»

«Are you apologising?» Marc only stared at him. Jake could see his eyes watery and shining. He guessed this would be the moment he’d apologise, but Steven was right, this was something he liked and enjoyed.

Well better give him what he wanted then.

«Okay»

Steven screamed under his hold, as he blew a massive raspberry on his ribs, right on his highest one, very close to his underarm. He squirmed and tried to push him away with his other arm but he could not escape. So he threw his head back and let a steam of tired and happy laugh leave his body.

Jake blew another one and then nibbled at the place - something he had never done but soon realised he was very good at since Marc started snorting. And not just once. Every few seconds a snort would escape Marc’s control making him blush even harder.

Marc lost all his strength and collapsed on Jake’s body, letting himself be tickled without trying to stop it. Jake soon realised that he was finally exhausted and retreated, leaving only one hand on his exposed side. The touch made Marc jerk.

«Are you sorry?»

Marc nodded «Yehehehes» he whispered between giggles.

«Now tell us who the winner of this argument is.»

«Yohoh-youhu, yohou ahahareheh thehe winnehehr.»

«Wrong answer. I wasn’t part of your argument amigo.» he scribbled on the exposed underarm and Marc was now sure he was going mad. He snorted again.

«WhahahAHAHAHAT.»

«He’s talking about me mate.» Steven sweetly said, a bit concernedabout Marc’s state as Jake’s fingers scratched at his armpit without relenting.

«OHOHOHMYHY GOHOAHAHAD PLEHEHEHAHAHAHSEHEHE IM SOHOHORRYHYHYHY STEHEHEHEEHEVEHEHEHEN YOHOHOHU WHEHEHEHRHEHEHE RIGHT YOHOHOUHUHU WIHIHIHIN JUHUHUHUST STOHOHOPSTOHOHP.»

Jake grinned and let Marc go. The man curled up again and wheezed, trying to shake away the feeling, so overwhelmed that when Steven caressed his head he squealed.

«Mate that was brutal.»

Jake raised his eyebrows «You think so?»

Steven decided that it was better to shut up and to take care of Marc, whose condition were very poor.

«Ihihihim nehehehev ahahaskihihihing yohohou ahahanything ahahagahahaihin.»

Both Jake and Steven laughed at that.

«Next time read.» Steven declared chortling.

«And don’t be a sore loser.» Jake intimidatingly said, wiggling his fingers in the air.

Marc could not stop giggling for the next fifteen minutes.

[gigglysokkamcu-deactivated20221]

OH MY GOSH

GUYS-

I’M FUCKING SCREAMING

OSCAR HAS TICKLISH EARS IDJDIDBDISJDIS

Y’ALL I AM UNWELL I AM IN LOVE